Tears Of Gold
by Lili Evans dotcom
Summary: All I wanted was freedom. My greatest fear; a cage however glistening the bars of gold. I was so sure, but really, I was so wrong. It wasn't the silken chains I feared. It was the man I would willingly accept them for.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there everybody!! :D This is the prologue of my second fic, Tears of Gold, well duh lol, but hey it has to be said. I probably won't get around to updating more than this for quite a while, because finally, I have managed to get these things straight in my head. I am basically planning to write three fictions, all of which will in some ways interlink but more importantly lead on a little from each other. All Over again is the first, centuring obviously on Lily, James and the Marauders. Tears of Gold will go back in time and concentrate on Lucius and Narcissa, but will also show their role in the background of AOA, which might be only hinted at . Sirius and the others will obviously makes appearnces bt through very different eyes. This fic will lead on to my final work probably which will be centered around... Well I tell you at the end of this prologue if you haven't already guessed. ;) It's quite a rough copy but it really was screaming to be written and hopefully, now my plan is worked out, I can get back to actually aclomplishing it ^^**

**luv ya all!!**

**Lili**  
**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

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Tears of Gold: Prologue 

_It feels like it's crumbling. Eroding a little more each day in time's caress. The foundations of everything I have ever know, ever believed, all falling to pieces around me. _

_The dust collects despite all our best efforts. The cobwebs linger like poison ivy, snaking their way into the nooks and crannies of tarnished gold and smudged glass. Soon they'll win and tear down the last soft echo of our once legendary glory. I feel it, feel it in the stale air. The fading glow. The dying strength. _

_The House of Black is falling. With each stone that loosens, the proud ancient line weakens. My line. My heritage. _

_The time of the Purebloods is ending. Now, only I remain. The last of an impeachable bloodline, of a cursed and doomed generation, I linger like a shadow as a cold reminder of what was and what might have been. And as the new era slowly dawns, I watch, mourning silently for my family that tore itself apart._

_I, Narcissa Black._

Who could have imagined how right I truly was as I wrote those words many years, many decades ago, sitting in a tired, crumbling house, in small leather-clad diary that would probably always be the closest friend I would ever have. I remember the soft embroided cover and the ornate clasp as one still manages to pull out from the past, names and hair-colours of companions and loved-ones from time gone by. Probably the one person who truly knew, truly understood my weak, naïve heart. The weaknesses that would ever hold me back, some that I wore as proudly as the diamond and sapphires, whilst others that still remained locked away beneath the façade that the world believed was I. Lucius always knew of them, using them and hating them in equal measure.

My beautiful, strong Lucius. My Nemesis and my chain. I can still see him sometimes, always as he once was, so tall, so golden and so cruel. I can still hear his old mocking laugh in the wind as it brushes my cheek, chilling my skin like his fingers that were never anything but cold. Lucius before the war came and changed him, for better and for worse.

My Grandson runs up to me, eyes sparkling with bright new life, eager and scared but so ready for this next step, next journey. I smile, a pale wrinkled hand stretching out to brush his silken hair. Lucius' hair and Draco's.

My head lifts and his eyes as ever are on my face, love and worry evident in those pools of silver. My son, my darling, my first true unselfish love. So tall, so much like his father outwardly, but inside, the echo of a younger me. He will endure, as I have, whilst all my loved ones around me have fallen. My father, mother, Bella, Snape, Roldulphus, and finally my Lucius, who now waits for me and my time, with all his unnatural patience.

Grandmamma!! The word make me drop my head once more, to smile down adoringly at little Scorpius. He points towards a family down the platform, and I follow his innocent gaze and feel the familiar clench, as the legendary heroes of the War nod and stare back at me respectfully. I return the gesture, perhaps still haughty, who knows.

Is that really THE Harry Potter Grandmamma?, he ask asks eagerly. I nod and smile at him. He's a daddy now, I laugh gently, look, he's taking his son to the train too. Off to Hogwarts just like you my angel.

And so he is. The little boy is his father in miniature, same black hair, escaping the Weasley red of his wife, and those famous green eyes that take me suddenly into the past where a young, Gryffindor prefect stares stubbornly back at me, fighting for House Unity and the right to patrol with any Slytherin prefect she likes.

I close my eyes and turn back to the angel in front of me. There's Ronald Weasley too beside him, and Hermione Granger. His eyes widen. The famous aurors? I nod again and he turns back to stare once more. Then his little face flushes and he asks shyly. And the girl Grandmamma, do you think, is she coming to Hogwarts too.

Another smile, a soft secret one but he's still looking into the little girls eyes and doesn't see it. But Draco does, just as he hears the words and he makes to open his mouth. I glance at him and he pauses, glaring at me. Then he shrugs, and turns away and I smile again for my same stubborn boy.

The train whistles, the sound dragging me back and the fight is a little harder. Scorpius nods anxiously at his father, who picks up his trunk and moves towards the train. He makes to follow before suddenly turning round and throwing himself into his mother's arms. She kisses him lovingly, holing back the tears. Then he turns to me, and as he hugs me tightly, I hear him murmur into my soft blue cardigan. I'll miss you Grandmamma. He whispers brokenly and I pull him closer, wishing my grasp wasn't so fragile. I lift his chin and kiss his forehead. Then he's off.

The potter boy and the little girl run to the train too, in the wake of two older boys, one head flaming red, the other the same unruly black as another boy I once met. A beautiful golden haired seventeen-year-old breaks off a kiss and jumps onto the express seconds before it begins to move and her lover's black hair flickers gracefully in the steam as he lifts his hand and waves. I smile and wish them luck silently, better luck than mine.

As the train moves out of sight a hundred parents and loved ones wave after it, until finally the children are gone. We sigh a little wistfully and one by one, the faces disappear. Draco turns to me and offers his arm but I shake my grey head and nod for him and Astoria to go. He looks worried and for some reason I take his beautiful head in my hands and kiss his white brow as I did his sons. Something flickers in his eyes and he whispers softly. 'I love you mother. I smile again and nod. I know, my darling, I know. I kiss Astoria' cheek and smile as the pair of them joins hands and disparate.

Nearby, Harry Potter and his most loyal friends nod one last time in my direction and once more, I return the gesture, this time with a small smile. The Boy and the Man Who Lived looks as though he wants to say something but I know there aren't really any words. I saved his life to save that of my family's, so he believes and that is right. He doesn't need to know my past and my small part in his parent's and Godparent's story. They disappear and soon the platform is all but empty.

My back creeks and Lucius' old cane taps the tiled floor loudly, making my heart ache at the memory of his typical arrogance, as I slowly make my way towards one of the metal benches. The sound echoes almost eerily down the deserted 9 ¾ Platform when suddenly a voice at my side makes my head turn.

May I help you Madam. Amber eyes stare into mine. It's the boy from earlier, the lover of the golden girl who reminded me so strongly of my youth. But his hair is no longer black as night, instead I stare at the ludicrously turquoise locks, decorated with one blonde streak that hangs over his left brow. I gasp, I cannot help it, knowing, realising finally the reason for my true inexplicable sadness this day.

He thinks it's his hair that has shocked an elderly lady and all at once, his expression is apologetic. He wrinkles his nose and his head is once more black. His beautiful eyes look shyly into mine but he grins. I beg your pardon ma'am. And miraculously, I laugh, a true clear laugh as I haven't laughed since Lucius was laid to rest.

The boy smiles back and offer's me his arm and I accept, drinking in his face and features thirstily. He leads me to the bench and gently helps me sit. I thank him and he hesitates, wondering if he should leave.

Stay a while my child. If you have time to keep an old woman company for a few minutes. The same charming grin breaks out once more over those handsome features, features I hadn't thought to see again. Bella's strong, determined chin, his father's frighteningly golden eyes and dimples, dimples I envied both of them so much, dimples I recognise anywhere.

He sits beside me. I shut my eyes for the briefest moment, as the words from so long ago echo in my ears, once frightening, now merely sad. Reminding me of a choice that was never really in question.

Not much longer now. I know it as certain as the sun would rise tomorrow. Lucius' hand is on my shoulder but I turn back to my Great Nephew and smile for just a little longer.

Tell me about yourself, my child. And he does.

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**So there you go. Yes it'll be a Teddy and victoire fic in case you really didn't get the whole thing lol. Tell me what you think if you like but don't feel obliged, this is, as I said a little bit more of a sketch of what is to come, but I just HAD to get it out of my systme lol.**

**luv ya**

**Lili**  
**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heya all! Welcome to the long-awaited first chapter of this story, Tears of Gold. Long-awaited by me at least, the rest of you might not give a damn ^^ But I've been building up this plot for so many months now it almost doesn't quite seem real that the first chapter is going to be posted. Updates however won't come as quickly, I must tell you all now, simply because All Over Again, and all it's loyal fans have to be my priority. But still, chapter one is still quite an achievement. =)**

**There are a couple of things however I would like to let every body know NOW about this story, before reading and coming to flame me later. I'll say it loud and clear lol.**

**IN THIS STORY ANDROMEDA IS THE ELDEST BLACK SISTER NOT BELLATRIX! In other words, NON-CANON.**

**I'm not sure if this means I should technically put AU in the summery. Everything else in the story IS completely canon as everything I write always tries to be. Why this detail? Well mainly because for it to fit in with AOA and the plot line I'd developed, I really can't have Andy younger than Bella and thus still at school. If you have to hate me for this then I guess so be it, but I do hope that you'll be able to forgive me this one flaw and give this story a shot, never the less. **

**Other thing to know; this Chapter is in a way another prologue to the rest of the story in the sense that it is set four years before the next Chapter, just before Narcissa leaves for school. In Chapter 2 we will jump to the holiday before her fifth year.**

**That's about it really. Please tell me what you think, it's quite nerve-wracking to start an entire new story and plot line, and reviews DO make me feel lots better ;)**

**Loads a luv!**

**Lili**

**X x x x x x x x x **

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Tears Of Gold: Chapter 1

_They say that time wipes away all things. Pain. Regret. Memories. And to a certain extent it's true. I remember so little about that day. The sky could have been blue, or grey or possibly even as black as the name I once called my own. The huge lump of brick in the background could have belonged to any of the pureblood families, gracing the sloping grounds as proudly as the peacocks that now parade across the grey slopes outside my window. Just as the faces that were once so sharp and sparkling, dim and blur a little more with each passing year. Every face but one. That face that, ironically enough, I remember now clearer than before. The face I did forget, until the memory was dragged kicking and screaming back to the surface. _

_The sun was shining, I do remember that. How could I forget? The rays glancing off a head of gold, setting it not alight but aglow. A halo for the face that could have graced an archangel. _

_Instead, its owner would one day condemn his soul to hell. _

_And mine along with it._

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It was the first of July.

Cherry blossom swirled like pink snow as the wind pulled the petals playfully down from the slim elegant trees that framed the picture-perfect scene. Hundreds of ladies bustled and gossiped in pale, fluffy robes, sipping tea with one dainty finger held proudly aloof. Gentlemen discussed business and politics over French wine and aperitifs. Forty or so children of ages ranging from twelve to twenty danced and played either innocently or deliberately.

The tall sloping walls of the ironically named Black Manor gleamed pristine in the brilliant sunshine, regal and imposing as the sloping grounds that surrounded it. House-elves scuttled back and forth in contrasting sombre black save the small flash of gold where the family crest sparkled ostentatiously at their breast. Every member of the Wizarding PureBlood Elite laughed and danced and sipped under the warm summer sun. And at the very centre stood Druella Black née Rosier, the Queen amongst her court, spider at the very centre of its web.

At thirty-five Mistress Black had lost none of her youth's beauty; her hair fell like a fountain of gold, cascading curls gleaming in the sunlight and her face could have still served as a model for Botticelli's Venus. Sapphire blue robes enveloped her, more beautiful, more flattering than any other female present. And why not? No one would dare outshine the hostess of the biggest social event of the season so far. Gloves of silk adorned her slender hands, soft white ones that matched the pearls that gleamed at her throat. On a lesser woman such simplicity could have been seen as plain; on the wife of Cygnus Black, they mocked every other woman present as overdressed.

Face after face she smiled at, a dazzling flash of whiteness that never stretched wider than was fashionable, charm itself and yet lacking any warmth or feeling. Laughter bubbled from her perfectly painted lips again and again, a sweet chime of mirth more often than not for a reason she couldn't even remember. Around the ornamental gardens she floated like a butterfly in a swirl of robes, all blue and gold and pink and cream.

Who knew for how long she had danced? It may have been hours later when finally she paused beside the exquisitely presented buffet, covered in white silk, decorated with freesia and roses and the sweet sprinklings of the fallen cherry blossom. Delights beyond the lesser class's wildest imagination made up the mouth-watering spread that ranged from caviar to sugared fairy-wings; the entire fifty-foot long table worth more than a king's ransom.

Druella Black reached out to daintily pluck a crystal flute of champagne from the glittering tower, lifting it to her lips with fingers that close up could be seen to tremble very very slightly. The soft painted flesh pressed a perfect pink cupid's bow onto the rim of the glass and her eyes closed as the liquid soothed her parched and weary throat. She stood there like a fragile wraith, savouring the brief reprise from her duties before all too quickly, a familiar shiver ran down her spine.

Those eyes opened to meet the cold merciless gaze of the man she was bound to for eternity over the rim of her champagne flute. There was no pity in that gaze, no love or even affection for his wife of almost twenty years; only that familiar, cold distain.

For a moment Druella considered rebelling, turning her back on the tall dark man and sipping the sweet reviving liquid for a few seconds more. Wilder fantasies flashed through her mind; of her telling the guests that she felt faint from the sun, of escaping from the loneliness amongst many to the loneliness born of true solitude.

But before the thoughts had done more than bring the first real smile to her brilliant blue eyes, Cygnus Black curled his beautiful lower lip in a frightening promise and reality returned in a flash. Druella's head seemed to droop; the sparkle vanished from her crystal gaze leaving it empty as a tomb. Her tall graceful figure seemed to shrink, the robes that decorated her body now almost swallowing her as completely as the familiar cold misery. Her expression transformed once more into that dead meaningless smile and she nodded her head in well-practised acquiescence.

The woman placed the glass back down on the table, half empty before breathing one last breath that almost tasted like freedom. Then she turned and disappeared back into the masses of Wizarding Pureblood Elite escaping those frightening black eyes for as long as she possibly could.

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At four o clock precisely, Cygnus Black clapped his hands for silence. And silence there was, instantly. Druella caught his passionless gaze and felt her feeble heart sink a little lower before making her way gracefully to his side, white pearls gleaming brightly in a smile sweeter than honey.

The fingers she laid on her husbands arm trembled in their silken gloves, the gesture graceful and affectionate as the look in her eyes as she smiled proudly up at him. He returned neither the look nor the gesture but inclined his head, giving permission for her to speak, his tall form as dark as she was pale.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Beloved guests! "

The words sang out like sunbeams on a lake; nightingale and lark would have been put to shame.

"It is my dearest and greatest pleasure, to present to you all my husband's youngest daughter. Please; I ask you all to welcome her into your presence, on this, her eleventh birthday. "

Every eye turned to the huge white stone archway as the doors into the manor opened with smooth majestic slowness. Every head turned, either politely or curiously, to stare up the marble staircase that flowed down like a waterfall from the silhouette framed there.

It was a little figure, all in white. White lace her exquisite yet modest robes, white the tiny diamond buckled shoes that peeped out from beneath the frosted hem and white the skin that sheathed the little body as it stood in the gaping black mouth of the manor, ready to clamp down and devour her. The only colour was the rich gold of her hair, the faintest flush in her cheeks and the deep indigo of those huge eyes that stared so solemnly down at the crowd before her.

Mothers sighed in envy, the ones with sons already calculating Cygnus Black's vast fortune split three ways and fathers lifted gold-rimmed eyeglasses to stare with now complete attention as the first little foot descended the first white step. Followed by a second, a third and so forth, until finally the child stood silently on the grass. Her chin was childishly rounded but held aloof and her back was straight as an antique poker as she came to a halt, the white ribbons in her hair the only movement as they fluttered in the breeze.

Druella sighed a silent painful breath even as her painted lips formed the words and the smile that they all were waiting for.

"My husband's daughter, Narcissa Evangeline Black. "

The applause erupted so suddenly and loudly that the girl almost flinched and Druella held an anxious breath. She needn't have worried. Narcissa's chin never lowered as she sank into a curtsey that not a single lady present could rival in its grace. The soft sigh was allowed to escape as Druella glanced swiftly into her husband's and he nodded a single nod. The greatest mark of approval Cygnus Black would ever bestow on a member of the weaker sex and the sign of permission she was waiting for.

In an instant Druella was at her daughter's side, clasping the little hand in her white glove tight enough to reassure. The child swallowed and turned her deep blue eyes to her mother's, their matching colour and clarity leaving no one in doubt of the relationship between the pair. The girl was the woman in miniature, the same ethereal beauty and fragility characterised both and when Druella bent her head to kiss Narcissa gently on the cheek, the gold ringlets mingled until they were indistinguishable one from the other. Then she spoke softly in her daughter's ear

"You did very well. "

For the briefest of moment's Narcissa stared up expressionlessly into her mother's beautiful face. Then, like sunshine bursting over the curve of a hill, her coral pink lips spread into a smile that put the heavenly bodies to shame. Those sapphires sparkled with pure unrestrained delight, her mask of breeding and calm cracking to allow the natural radiance and glow to pour through. Narcissa grasped her mother's hand tightly and let out peal of tinkling laughter that seemed to light up the grounds. The riot of gold ringlets were thrown back, rosebud lips parted in breathless pleasure as she chimed out like a bell

"I did it Mama! I did it! "

No one would have noticed the ever so slightly bitter twist to Druella's answering smile, nor the sadness in those breath-taking eyes as she stroked her daughter's cheek. All they saw was the enamel coating, sleek and shining and impenetrable until the day it finally cracks. All they heard were the words that left the mother's lips, sweet and loving as they almost broke in her mouth.

"Yes you did, my darling. You were perfect. "

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Standing in line, in descending order of height and age, the Black girls were a sight to catch and hold the eye.

The eldest stood to the left, her soft chocolate waves topping the next by at least three inches. Dark mahogany eyes surveyed the scene with quiet watchfulness, her posture graceful and charmingly demure as was to be expected in a girl just entering her fifteenth year.

Her gaze swept the never-ending tide of guests with a practised eye, never stopping to stare but missing nothing as they passed. Her features were flawless as only a Black's could be, her cheekbones high, her lips full but it was the girl's expression that earned her the hesitantly admiring glances; the intelligence that lurked in those deep brown eyes, the hint of steel in the clench of her jaw. Signs of strength and character, traits neither of which were encouraged in pureblood young ladies and yet…still the eye lingered.

Only when the an elf tripped on a scarlet stiletto shoe, causing the wearer to shriek louder than banshee did the girl's lips twitch, spread and then burst into an irrepressible grin that was escorted by the most engaging pair of dimples ever seen. And only then did one particular onlooker realise just how irresistible Andromeda Black could be.

The dimples danced to and fro as the girl bent her head to whisper into the second sister's ear, chocolate locks streaming into a mane of deepest ebony, the soft pink of the eldest's dress clashing ever so slightly with the other's amber brocade.

The heavy material clung to a form that seemed too voluptuous for a girl of thirteen years of age, hinting at curves both already forming and promising to be the downfall of every man to meet her. Rich honey skin shimmered in the sun as her fingers' lifted to forcibly push back the thick waterfall of black curls that tumbled with rebellious determination to escape from her head band. Obsidian eyes flashed back and forth, here and there, burning with a brilliant fire that both enticed and chilled the spine. Her sister's words made her glance towards the woman in the scarlet dress, a swift brilliant blaze of black fire, and those full red lips spread into a smirk of pure evil delight.

For a moment the two eldest of the sisters Black allowed themselves the small pleasure of mocking the portly lady's embarrassment, before a bright cheery chime pulled their attention back to the third and last girl in the line.

The angelic white of her coming-out robes were as flattering to the wearer as they had been when she'd walked down those marble steps. The expression however, was as different as could be.

Gone was the mask of rigid propriety every pureblood girl had literally beaten into her before the age of eleven. The cold abstraction from her pale, piquant little face had vanished leaving only the sparkle in those cornflower eyes and the glowing lust for life that seemed to radiate from her. The girl gave the impression of restrained, even repressed energy, ever fighting it's bonds. Every movement seemed to beg for more and stillness was never fully complete. Some part had to move. Had to live and see and touch and dance because there was just too much of the world she wanted to experience.

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In that brief moment Narcissa Black thought life was perfect. Her first debut had been a complete success and for an eleven-year-old daughter of the House of Black, nothing else mattered for the time being.

But certain things were engrained and one of them was propriety, and so, as the next in an endless line of guests came forward to curtsey and be curtsied to, Narcissa obeyed her parent's orders and retreated once more behind the mask. The sparkle was deliberately dimmed until almost unnoticeable, the excited stuttering of her heart a secret between herself and her ribcage.

White gossamer skirts were swept aside with a regal air worthy of a queen and a tiny hand was placed delicately into the glove of yet another woman who, like her predecessors, cooed and marvelled over her beauty and manners, over her golden head to her mother.

Narcissa allowed her lips to lilt into a matching smile as her thoughts drifted wistfully once more, back to the dancing that was coming and back to the dark-haired boy who had asked for the honour of leading her into the first set. Augustus Rookwood, the little girl sighed dreamily. Simply thinking of the compliment he had bestowed on her threatened to bring back the rosy flush to her cheeks and the sparkle to her eyes but in a split second the candle was blown out as a gentle hand touched her ever so lightly on her slim shoulder.

Druella Black smiled and lilted accordingly, empty words spilling from her lips as easily as champagne as she asked after so-and-so, declared herself stunned by another's engagement and complemented the lady's robes as simply exquisite. Narcissa watched with eyes wider than a house-elves, admiring silently her mother's charm and ability to remember every single person present and their life-stories. Druella had said it was necessary. In the pureblood world, Ladies did not battle with wands but with words. No more had she said, her eyes sad even as she'd smiled at the little girl about to enter into that backbiting, cruel and uncaring world.

The lady in pink satin moved on, double chin wobbling ever so slightly as she bowed her head and curtsied one final time to Narcissa. Then the next guest came forward and the tiny girl had to resist the urge to crane her slim neck and peer up at the newcomer who towered above even her mother's delicate frame.

He was taller than any man she'd ever seen, her own father included and his powerful frame stood lean and deceptively relaxed, his careless nonchalance at odds with the stiff bloodless propriety of every one before him. Narcissa kept her face respectfully lowered to the perfectly clipped grass but could not resist sneaking a peak through her lashes as the stranger bowed over Andromeda's hand.

"Miss Black. " a voice smooth as silk and gentle as a ghost. Yet it's underlying tone was pure mockery. Narcissa watched and wondered as Andromeda's inimitable calm wavered and almost cracked. His face was turned away; all she could see was a pointed yet strong chin and jaw lightly stubbled with silver and a pair of smoothly curving lips. It was a smile she would grow to know as well as her own, yet at that moment all she think of was the puzzle of the man's years. Hair turned grey with age did not sit well on a figure so tall and leanly muscled.

Andy pulled her fingers away, and Narcissa saw they trembled in the sunlight. The man's smile deepened.

It was Bella's turn next and she placed her hand in his with a wicked grin, that promised and lured and danced out of reach and the man turned his head a little more. The raven-haired girl laughed at the man's murmur of

"Miss Bellatrix Black. Delightful as always. "

But Narcissa frowned, wondering silently how Bella knew this gentleman and of whom she spoke when she demanded eagerly

"Is he here?"

To Narcissa's surprise no word from behind her chastened Bella for her deplorable manners and lack of etiquette but she resisted the temptation to turn and meet her mother's eye. As for the gentleman, he simply laughed softly and nodded to someone behind him.

Bella's black eyes flashed at once to the next person waiting silently in line before her face lit up in a smile of deepest pleasure. The man moved aside so that he stood directly at last in her eye-line, smirking over her head into her mother's face.

"Mistress Black, my son begs your kindness and remembrance. Lucius, make your bow to the dazzling daughters of the House of Black. "

The second figure stepped forward and the thought that flashed in Narcissa's brain was that somehow, it was the first in miniature.

Sleek, silver blond hair fell over his face as he bowed with grace even she could not hope to match. His robes were the deepest forest green, edged with silver thread and buttons. Beneath them his dress shirt was crisp and white and open slightly at the neck so that when he finally raised his head, she would have seen the smooth skin of his collarbone gleam had she cared to look. As it was, Narcissa could only stare into a pair of eyes that seemed in that moment to steal her soul.

Andromeda had turned half-away, cheeks still tinged with pink and a gaze like steel. Beside her Bella was staring at the boy hungrily, eyes still burning with that all-consuming fire, a wicked little half-smile curling her lips. But Narcissa didn't see that smile, not the distaste nor the almost cruel look on Abraxus Malfoy's face as his son held out a hand like silk and, without even realising, she placed her own in his. Nor did she see the look of suppressed agony on Druella Black's face as the boy brought those tiny fingers' to his lips, barely grazing the knuckles and then unleashing upon her daughter a smile that could have graced a member of the heavenly choir.

All Narcissa could do was stare, unaware that the boy still clasped her hand or that she'd allowed herself to become lost in that steel grey gaze for almost two minutes. And still he smiled, soft and innocent and beautiful until the pink seemed to steal into her cheeks under his gaze and she finally drew her hand back and looked at the ground.

"Miss Black. " she heard him say, his voice like black velvet. "My congratulations on your coming out. No first year Slytherin shall shine as bright."

Narcissa blushed a deeper pink at the compliment but it was Druella who stepped smoothly into the breach, the first hint of ice behind her laughing sweetness.

"Unfortunately Mister and Master Malfoy, my daughter will be leaving for France next week, to commence her first year at Beaxbatons Academy. "

Something flickered in those silver eyes as they paused and glided smoothly to the pale face of the woman behind her. Then he replied in that same rippling tone

"Really. Is that not a little unusual? "

It was Abraxus that answered his lilting question, with a coldly malicious smile, that widened as Druella looked away.

"Your…_mother _attended that same school, along with Mistress Black. "

Narcissa tore her gaze away from the younger Malfoy's suddenly expressionless face to stare curiously at her mother, who nodded to the unspoken question.

"My cousin and I spent six happy years there. " the words were sad but she held the man's mocking gaze with that dazzling smile still painted on her lips.

"I'm sure. " the smile was matched in suavity and gentleness as the man briefly closed his eyes in secret amusement. The woman's chest swelled in silent bitter anger, the same movement descending smoothly into a deeply respectful curtsey.

"I believe we must detain you no longer Mister Malfoy. Alas, so many guests means so little time with each. "

Thick blond lashes brushed silken cheeks in demure regret, but the glint in those sapphire irises they hid was not so submissive. Druella held out her gloved hand in a movement so light it seemed to caress the air and Abraxus Malfoy took it with the same matchless grace, pressing it to his lips just hard enough to feel the smirk through the thin material.

"As always, Mistress Black, you are right but my son desires to request the honour of a walk with the birthday girl. Will you not spare her to him, only for a few minutes? "

A pause and then,

"For…_her_…sake, perhaps? "

Still bent over her suddenly trembling fingers, two pools of silver glinted wickedly into hers. The anger, the hatred flared and stung painfully but she was not yet weak enough to give him the satisfaction of showing it. Druella faced the boy who stood so silently and so arrogantly before them, pushing back the familiar wave of grief.

The smile was as sweetly angelic as it had been all those years ago, gracing a face disturbingly similar and yet not the same. It had been the gentlest smile Druella had ever seen and with the silken tendrils of silver dancing across his features, it was like looking into a pensive. Back to a time when Evangeline Rosier lived and breathed and danced like the sunbeams and moonlight she had seemed to be fabricated from. When Bertrand de Bonnard had kissed and held and made love from sweet sunset till cruel dawn.

Before Evangeline Malfoy had bled and bruised and finally broken under the merciless hand of the very man who stood so cruel and unashamed in front of her.

Druella Black stared into the beautiful boy's face, unable to do anything but gaze hungrily at the white skin, the naturally arching brows, the lips that seemed too delicate for a boy, her heart breaking all over again as that smile shone through and shattered the darkness within it.

Then those endless silver eyes locked with hers and the spell was abruptly broken.

Abraxus Malfoy stared up at her from Evangeline's face. Indeed a face that was saved from the appearance of weakness by the few traits that did not belong to the girl she had once loved so dearly. The haughtily lifted strait nose, the commanding chin and of course the arrogance in his eyes that only a Malfoy could possess.

The illusion faded. Reality returned and Druella pulled away from Evie's tender smile and the boy who wore it like armour and wielded it like a sword . The boy who, underneath the angelic innocence, was utterly and completely his father's son.

"I'm afraid Narcissa has many people to meet and little time for her own pleasure. Next season perhaps. "

There was something similar between the smile that now curved her lips and the one that faded heartbreakingly from the younger Malfoy's face. A Rosier smile both of them, and the disappointment her words had provoked almost made her reconsider. But the flash of something else in the boy's eye was a warning she didn't need, to make her take Narcissa gently by the hand and pull her back in line, ignoring the suddenly downcast look on her daughters face as well as it's signification.

Triumph was in that smile as she held out her hand sweetly to only man she would ever hate more than her own, when a black shadow fell across Abraxus Malfoy's smirk and that hatefully familiar voice was rippling over her neck.

"Abraxus my old friend, it has been too long. "

Only for a moment did Druella eyes briefly close but Cygnus Black was reaching for Abraxus' outstretched hand and did not see. Instead that harsh forbidding countenance glanced down at the boy who now stood as arrogantly as the man, two heads white blond and two pairs of eyes that gleamed bright and beautiful in the afternoon sun. Abraxus placed his hand on his son's shoulder and gripped in meaningfully, silver gaze flickering wickedly to the woman's suddenly expressionless face.

"Cygnus; I appeal to you. Help me convince your wife to allow my son the opportunity of making himself better known to your exquisite little daughter. She frets for her guests being unattended. "

Cygnus' dark gaze moved emotionlessly over his wife's face before turning back to the silver haired man and saying deeply

"They have been attended all afternoon. They may spare her for a little while. Narcissa: " Narcissa immediately stepped forward, her sapphire gaze properly lowered and dropped into a respectful curtsey.

"Father. "

"You will take a turn with young master Lucius. You will be all that is expected of a daughter of the House of Black. Abraxus, a glass of champagne? Druella… "

The name hung ominously in the air as he stared into the woman's eyes. Her chin was high, her breast swelled, her gaze imperiously proud to the end and that challenge brought the first tiniest hint of a cruel smile to those firm lips.

"Carry on. "

Without another word the two men strolled nonchalantly in one direction and, with a mocking smile the boy held out his arm and led Narcissa triumphantly away in the other. Two huge blue eyes stared helplessly at the floor, despair and hatred battling for dominance under the shell of that unshakable self-control as another grey-eyed Malfoy sunk their deadly claws into someone she loved.

And with each elegant step away from the beautiful shadow of a woman, two Malfoy smirks widened.

* * *

Narcissa couldn't help but think his smile was really very very lovely. It curled his mouth in such a very lazily beautiful way that it reminded her of a flower unfurling it's petals in the rain. Slow and easy and yet transfixing. And when he caught her glancing up at him through her lashes the smile grew even wider. Narcissa had never felt so unsure, so oddly frightened and yet excited at the same time. The boy's eyes were pools of purest silver and seemed to steal into her mind at will. Her grip tightened self-consciously on his arm and Lucius smirked secretly.

"Where would you have us walk, Miss Black? " the question was soft and unobtrusive; he was taking pains to set her at ease. Narcissa flushed slightly but pulled herself together.

"The flowers are beautiful at this time of year, if…if you would care to see them. " she peeped up at him and again that smile set her heart beating frantically. He was only two years older than her but somehow had the manner of outclassing her dismally. For the first time that day, Narcissa felt hopelessly out of her depth. Then his soft voice made her raise her head once more.

"I would care very much. " Another dazzling smile made her blink and he led her unerringly through the throng with a grace and dexterity that left Narcissa even more stunned. A few short minutes later and the rich scent of Freesia and Lily of the Valley and Honeysuckle filled the pair's noses and Narcissa breathed in a huge sigh of delight.

Time and place were forgotten, caution thrown to the winds and manner's were momentarily discarded; the girl broke away from his arm and ran to the bursts of colour and fragrance as though greeting old friends, eyes sparkling pools of blue, lips parted in eagerness as her small fingers moved to touch each and every blossom with love.

Lucius blinked, taken aback by the complete change in the girl's demeanour as the mask of rigid propriety was cast away to reveal a breathtakingly beautiful creature with a smile that warmed the heart and a laugh that sweetened the air that separated them.

The girl suddenly recalled where and who she was and the disastrous breach of manners she had just committed. She turned around, eyes still aglow and cheeks faintly flushed as she bit her lip sheepishly at the boy she had so summarily abandoned.

Penitence there was but underneath it, a bubble of mischief threatened to escape as Lucius stared, mouth slightly agape. It was the gleam that recalled him to his senses and he frowned, unsure whether to be admiring or affronted. Then the gurgle of mirth escaped and, for the first time in his memory, he almost found himself grinning back.

"I'm sorry, truly I am! Please don't be cross; it's the flowers fault for being so lovely in sunshine! "

Lucius stared at her, his face dignified and unreadable. Those pretty lips parted in another attempt at contrition but just as her agonised expression was convincing him to relent, a flash of midnight blue caught her eye. The curls fanned through the air and sapphire eyes shone like stars in excitement before, to the younger Malfoy's complete shock she grabbed his hand and practically yanked him through the gap between two rose bushes and into the miniature Eden without so much as a word.

Lucius could barely string a sentence together as the tiny fingers pulled him impatiently further through freesias and daffodils and Magnolias, when suddenly she stopped and it took all his strength to avoid crashing into her small frame.

Sanity returned in an instant. The sneer that curled the boy's angelic face was frightening to behold but before he could let rip the blistering defamation of her morals, her behaviour and above all her character, a tiny white-gloved finger pressed urgently over his lips.

"Shhhh we'll scare it. "

The enigmatic words did nothing to assuage the furious anger but they did make the boy pause in reluctant curiosity.

"What exactly is my voice going to scare that your ridiculous galumphing about hasn't already? "

The biting sarcasm passed straight over her head, the youngest Daughter of the House of Black looked up at him with a dazzling smile before pointing eagerly at the elegant topiary she had stopped short in front of. Lucius rolled his eyes tetchily but, for Merlin knows what reason, leaned forward to scowl impatiently in the direction she was pointing in.

He wasn't sure what exactly he'd expected. Something of sufficient magnitude to warrant such a stupid, undignified romp through the Manor Gardens, however, his subconscious did demand. A house-elf suicide perhaps or an escaped Aethonon let loose from the stables. Which was why, when the reason for his ruffled, decidedly put out appearance was finally brought to light, at the tip of one gloved finger-tip, Lucius Malfoy couldn't quite believe it.

It was a butterfly.

A simple, common as they come, butterfly, sitting innocently on the vibrant green sculpture, as oblivious to the stir it had created as the girl still standing blithely at his side. Lucius for once in his young life, was completely and utterly stunned.

"Isn't it beautiful? " The question awoke the instinctive spark of breeding and he turned his head to stare blankly down at that little golden head. Sense began to slowly return, heralding a blazing tower of anger but shock still numbed the boy's highly acute brain and he found himself saying uncomprehendingly back

"It's a butterfly. "

Huge sapphire irises lifted to glow into his face, lips parted in a dazzling smile of eagerness.

"Exactly! " she breathed, before turning back to stare once more at the little blue creature with an almost hungry look.

"I would give anything to be like her. " The words sighed with longing, bursting from the heart in a moment of unguarded confidence.

The anger was growing but still curiosity furrowed his brow, repressing it a little while longer as he tried unsuccessfully to decipher her meaning.

"It is pretty. " he allowed, searching her face for a reaction, puzzled over how the loveliest girl he had ever seen could envy the creature's simple appeal. Had she no mirror? But the question had done no more than make him smirk at it's absurdity when suddenly the girl lifted her face once more to his in a mixture of reproach and amusement.

"Not because she's PRETTY. " Narcissa almost giggled, shaking her head at the boy's silliness before grasping his hand once more and pulling him closer. And Lucius found himself following almost dreamlike, waiting for her to continue. And when she did, the words floated softly over the air, so gentle and yet filled with so much almost desperate longing.

"Because she's FREE…. "

The meaning sank in and the sneer pulled his lips upwards but still the girl spoke in that same voice of yearning

"Free to live, to laugh and to cry! To fly and run and soar and never ever come down to earth! To dance and…and… "

Narcissa broke off, eyes widening as the unpleasant curl of the boy's lips reminded her just how badly she had shown herself up. Panic flooded her face, white as a sheet and agonised. Pureblood ladies did not have such foolish dreams; it was an honour to serve the husband her parents chose to bind her too. To divulge that her greatest desire was to shake of her name and its bonds forever, to this handsome stranger…It was unthinkable. Narcissa could only stare helplessly, pleading with him not to betray her.

Lucius read the thoughts streaming through her mind as though they were written on her face. Disgust at this little fool, who entertained such ridiculous notions below her station, anger at her breech of etiquette and social conduct, and self-disgust at having been beguiled by her impulsive, taking ways into actually listening to these silly fantasies; it all screamed at him to give the girl a final sneer and walk away. Let the fool lie on her own bed. When word of this discussion came to her father's ears, her departure to France would become a necessity, to escape the ensuing punishment. It would be so pathetically easy. All he had to do was leave.

Leave and ignore the desperate pleading in those huge, shining indigo eyes.

They shone almost wetly up at him, big and bright and irritatingly beautiful, the colour almost identical to the butterfly that still sat poised on flight, on the green topiary. Pride and fear battling for dominance, he could see the way she hated it. Hated the need to beg. But knowing the consequences if she didn't.

Lucius stared down into her face and briefly closed his eyes in disgruntlement. Then, to her shock he bowed with unreal grace, lifted her white hand and said

"With the greatest will in the world, it is not in my power to make you fly. However, make you dance; perhaps I can, if, Narcissa Black, you will do me the honour. "

Her fingers trembled as the perfect, full lips pressed themselves to her skin for a second longer than strictly appropriate. Soft silken tendrils of silver brushed her wrist like a caress as she flushed and stared down at his bent, white-blond head. Narcissa couldn't find her voice, it had been stolen away she thought vaguely, stolen away by steel eyes and soft, scalding breath. And by the time she found it once more, he had already taken her arm and lead her through the maze of flowers and back to the Garden Party, to where the Music was just striking up for a cotillion.

His voice, soft and purring once more made Narcissa blink, suddenly coming out of her daze and into the present.

"Shall we? "

Again those lips smiled with an angel's innocence; it was almost as though his earlier sneer had been her imagination. But the sight of couples being lead onto the open space roped off for dancing kick-started her brain into working once more. Narcissa pulled away with a regretful shake of her golden head, oblivious to the sudden frown that harded that steel gaze.

"I'm sorry, I already promised the first dance to someone else. He,… " a faint blush coloured her cheeks and the boy's expression darkened at the sight of it. "He said, he said I put the stars to shame. "

The admission was made shyly but her eyes glowed with repressed excitement and pleasure. It didn't enter Lucius' head that the reason for this was the simple fact of being the object of such a compliment rather than the identity of the one who had made it. All he knew was that she was rosy-cheeked and flushing in a way that no one but himself should have provoked. A muscle in Lucius' jaw clenched as he commented in a voice like silk.

"Obliging of him. "

Again she didn't notice the sarcasm; she was too wrapped up in thoughts of her admirer, Lucius sneered inwardly, inexplicably vicious. The girl simply flushed a little deeper and peeped shyly up at him from under her lashes.

"Yes. Though it was probably the dress. Will you…will you be asking another young lady? "

The hint of worry behind the hesitant inquiry brought the gleam of arrogant good-humour back into his silver eyes. He looked down at her with a smirk, answering it with another.

"Who is your honey-tongued cavalier? "

Narcissa almost pouted as he deftly sidestepped the question but suppressed the childish gesture and answered with a shy smile and a blush once more.

"Augustus…Master Rookwood. " she said softly to the grass, thick golden lashes demurely lowered so that she did not see the gleam that suddenly darkened those pools of silver, didn't see the angelic smile twist momentarily into a smirk of pure triumph. And by the time she ventured to lift her gaze once more to his, the look of almost cruelty had vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Well. Then let us call him. " Lucius said smoothly, fighting back the smirk as it threatened to escape. He snapped his fingers smartly and at once a small ugly house-elf wearing the Black Family Crest appeared with a loud "pop "!

"Sir? " Lucius rolled his eyes at the repulsive little thing before saying coldly.

"Tell Master Rookwood that Master Malfoy requests his presence immediately. Bring him here. " With another snap, it had gone and Lucius turned to smile with satisfaction into Narcissa's wide-eyed expression.

They did not have to wait long. Less than a minute later a boy no older than the one beside her walked up to the waiting pair and Narcissa couldn't help but smile a glowing smile. The youth returned it charming, dark hair falling into his deep brown eyes as he held out a hand and brought her fingers to his lips.

"Miss Black. If the servant had told me the true identity of my summoned I would have come all the quicker. "

Narcissa's cheeks turned rosy but she spoke with perfect composure as she pointed out with a hopeful smile

"The first dance is just about to strike up, if you are still of the same mind as earlier. "

The sapphires sparkled eagerly and Augustus grinned back. The immediate assertion that nothing could bring him greater pleasure was almost on his lips when a sudden, gentle cough from the figure behind Narcissa, made him lift his gaze. Lucius moved his head barely an inch, once to the left and once to the right, but that, coupled with the dark promise in his steel gaze, had the apology spewing from his classmate's lips faster than a unicorn's gallop.

"Ah…well Miss Black, unfortunately I must cry pardon on this matter and beg you to give me that honour some other time. My mother has fallen prey to the heat and wishes me to attend her. I am therefore forced to leave you in Master Malfoy's capable hands. "

Darks eyes shot to the same Malfoy as he spoke, seeking approval and he was rewarded by the widest of smiles. Lucius bowed slightly to his friend, promising silently to thank him later, and Rookwood winked back at him over the girl's turned head. The dark-haired boy returned the bow and kissed Narcissa's hand once more with a flourish before disappearing into the crowds.

Lucius's smirk was filled with the arrogance of every Malfoy before him as he turned back to the golden haired girl with a gleam of triumph.

"Shall we? " he repeated with deep self-satisfaction and a dazzling flash of teeth, when suddenly her head lifted, golden curls thrown back and to his complete shock, she glared furiously up at him.

"You did that! " she accused, fists clenched in anger, eyes bright and shining with hurt and burning indignation. " You made him do it! How could you? "

Lucius glared straight back, mouth almost falling open in annoyance as the little chit actually berated him publicly.

"I did it because I wanted to dance with you. You should be flattered! "

The sneer was disdainful, the fire in those steel eyes just as deadly as he forced his voice to lower, so as to attract no more attention from the surrounding crowd. But to his horror she lashed back, just as wrathfully and just as shrilly; Lucius cringed inwardly as faces turned to stare.

"Well I'm not and I won't! "

He almost hissed back into her pale, furious face as she pulled sharply away from his vice-like grip.

"Don't be such a fool, now take my arm before the set is complete! "

Narcissa took a step back, away from the beautiful boy who now managed to look like an avenging angel in his rage. Her dark blue eyes narrowed, lower lip pouting mulishly as she lifted her chin in challenge.

"No. "

The boy's lids narrowed in turn, his lips white and pressed, a muscle quivering in his jaw as he repeated in a voice like silk.

"No? " The menace behind the single, softly spoken word almost made her wince, but Narcissa stood her ground and glared fiercely back before say louder than before.

"No. You may be able to scare away anyone else from dancing with me, but you can't force me to dance with you! "

The crowd that had now gathered seemed to gasp in shock and horror as this slip of a girl publicly refused and humiliated the heir of the richest PureBlood Family in England. Mutters crept back and forth, a few snorts of laughter quickly hushed by frantic mothers but Lucius Malfoy never removed his murderous gaze from the golden-haired chit standing opposite him. Narcissa met him look for look and finished in a voice sweeter than honey, chin lifted as proudly and triumphantly as a queen.

"That freedom, at least, I do have. "

Indigo met silver in a blaze of fire and without another word, the eleven year old gathered her skirts and swept away, the crowd parting in wonder as she went. Lucius didn't move, livid gaze still scorching the empty air she had just left, lips curled into the very deadliest of smirks.

The hoards that had gathered departed rapidly, eyeing the rigid look on the Malfoy Heir's beautiful face with obvious nervousness. The chattering and bustle resumed, the dancing gayer and more lively than ever under the brilliant summer sun. And still the thirteen year stood, still and perfect as a statue carved in stone.

Until a flash of brilliant blue fluttered gently past.

A white hand shot out, long elegant fingers forming a cage around the butterfly and Lucius's steel gaze finally lowered to stare expressionlessly down at it. The blue wings beat against his skin, frantically, desperately, longing to escape and return to the sky and the clouds, squirming hopelessly against his gentle iron hold.

Seconds passed. The white-blond head lifted, sleek, elegant locks gleaming in the sunshine, floating on the gentle breeze. The look on those perfect features was almost innocent, his smile soft as the white clouds above and his voice a gentle carress on the air all but drowned out by the nearby flurry of activity.

"Not for long, Narcissa Black. That I promise you. "

The pale fingers clenched. Life was snuffed out like a burning candle.

Lucius Malfoy flickered the blue mess of his perfect hands with an expression of distaste, still gazing into oblivion as the deadly lilting smirk pulled up the corners of his lips.

"Not for long. "

* * *

That night, the Sisters Black crept silently into Narcissa's room for their last Midnight Meeting. The huge four-poster bed was a sofa to all three, three slender figures sitting cross-legged on the silk duvet, none of them meeting the other's eyes.

"It's a good thing for you, Cissa, " Andromeda finally broke the heavy silence, tucking back her chocolate waves to smile determinedly at her baby sister. Narcissa couldn't answer, the lump in her throat was too big and too painful; she just nodded her golden head weakly and grasped the pillow to her chest a little tighter.

A sharp, fierce voice punctuated the heavy silence.

"How? How is this a good thing? "

Narcissa opened her mouth pleadingly but Bella had already jumped from the bed to march over to the nearby bay window, gold fingers gripping the sill so hard her knuckles were as white as the moon. She turned suddenly back, ebony curls tossed away, to stare back at the other two with eyes as large and dark and shining as the stars that framed her. The square jaw was clenched rigidly shut, white teeth gritted in the moonlight, and a gaze too bright to be anything but hurt. The tears never fell, she held them back fiercely as a lion, glaring back and forth, from one pale face to the other, iron shell on the verge of cracking.

"Why? Why do you have to go? Why do you have to leave? "

"It's not her choice, Bella. " Andy murmured softly, dark brown eyes fixed on her hands and dimples nowhere in sight.

Bella stamped her foot, choking on a silent sob and Narcissa screwed her eyes tight to hold back her own tears.

"I'm…sorry. " It was a broken whisper, forced out seconds before the golden head buried itself in the velvet cushion.

Bella let out a strangled whimper, before finally closing her dark eyes and running from the room.

Narcissa shot up to follow but Andy's white hand held her back. Those huge blue eyes turned to stare desperately into the older girls face, filled with tears and pain and guilt. Andromeda pulled the eleven year old into her arms and rocked her gently under pale sad gaze of the heavens.

The minutes ticked by slowly, when suddenly a tiny voice, muffled by the silk pyjamas her face was pressed into, floated to Andy's ears.

"Why am I always different? "

The golden head suddenly lifted, the little girls agonised gaze burning into hers.

"I'm not a star, not a Hogwarts student, I don't even look like a Black! Why can't I just be like you and Bella? "

The tears were streaming down, down pale cheeks, faster than Andy's fingers could wipe them away. Still they tried, stroking the white skin with love as she looked down at the girl she adored more than anything in the world.

"You will always, always be one of us. "

"Why am I the only flower? Why couldn't I just be like the rest of you? " the words were coming faster and more frantic, racing with the tears and the pain of loneliness. A spark of sternness returned to Andromeda's deep brown gaze and she suddenly lifted Narcissa's chin with strong fingers.

"Look at me Cissa. Look at me and listen. "

The white face swallowed but nodded; the cream one repressed a sad sigh and indicated towards the huge gold-rimmed window. Andromeda crawled on her hands and knees and pulled her younger sister to the far side of the bed, until both of them were sitting on the edge, bare feet dangling in the moonlight, one hand still holding white fingers, the other lifted towards the gold-rimmed arch of glass.

"What do you see? "

Narcissa glanced up into her sister's serious expression before hiccupping, blinking wetly and peering obediently up at the sky.

"I see the stars all shining brightly, " the little girl eventually said glumly, "With Sirius and Bella the brightest of them all. "

A sudden grip on her shoulders made Narcissa start as two warm hands gently spun her round and Andy bent down so that their heads and eyes were level.

"Exactly. And now listen to me and never forget what I'm about to say. "

The mahogany gaze was dark and sad and timeless, cream fingers slipping slowly down Narcissa's pale wrists to hold her hands lovingly. Full lips twisted and parted as she spoke softly, the words echoing for many years, many decades to come.

"The brightest stars will always burn themselves out. "

Narcissa frowned but Andy smiled, pressing the eleven year old gently down into the cushions and pulling the covers up around her with loving care.

"The princess will always dream of her prince. "

The confused "but " was cut off as the chocolate waves gleamed in the moonlight as Andromeda Black lifted her hand to gently caress her sister's cheek, eyes as old and ageless as the stars that twinkled above them.

"But the flower...the flower will always, always turn towards the sun. "

The kiss was soft and sweet as a sigh as it was pressed onto the little girl's forehead. Her iredescant lids fluttered, her eyes closed and didn't open again, until morning.

* * *

**And there you are, Chapter 1 all up and running! =) Kinda. I hoped you liked it as much I actually liked writing it! I'm getting oddly addicted to these bad characters lol. Anyway, tell me what you think, pretty pretty please =)**

**Luv u all!**

**Lili**

**X x x x x x x x x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here it is; Chapter 2. This is where the story or rather the plotline really begins. I'll start by explaining the Bold/Italic difference because it's a different style that I didn't use for All Over Again. At the beginning of each chapter will be a mini-introduction of sorts by Narcissa, explaining and bridging gaps to allow the story to move at a slightly faster pace than AOA. I guess this because this story is more Narcissa's story rather than a Lucius and Narcissa Fic, and as I write, I always imagine her telling it in this manner, not enough time to tell everything of her life but the bits that she remembers, the moments and days that made her into Mrs Malfoy.**

**The other reason for this is the simple fact that I love the Lucius/Narcissa pairing and therefore loving Lucius as I do, could never tell a story where they do not eventually fall in love. In this chapter and indeed many that will follow, Lucius will be the villain, cruel and pitiless but he will, and this I swear, become the hero, despite his best efforts. So another reason for the intro from Narcissa's POV is to hint at the future and the love that will, in time grow between them from the hatred that begins.**

**Other notes to consider are the following.**

**There are quite a few OC's in this chapter but many of them will not play any further role in the story after this chapter, which is set in Narcissa's life in France. Therefore don't be too concerned about remembering all the French names and characters because, as I said, most of them we won't see again.**

**For the same reason, I warn in advance that there is a certain amount of French in this chapter. Most of the expressions are pretty simple, but I'll put a translation at the end anyway. Again, the rest of the story moves to England so this really is a one-chapter thing. As they are supposed to be speaking French all the time, I felt it needed some flavour of the language to give the right impression. Anyway the french bits will also be in Ittalic just to make things clearer.**

**Last but not least, this is rather a long chapter. It was planned to be long and then turned out even longer in reality but just like the other two points, this will be hopefully an exception. There is just so much that has to be set up now, for the later plotline.**

**I think that's about all so, please read, hopefully enjoy and if you want to really really make my day, review. =)**

**Luv ya**

**Lili**  
**X x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

* * *

_Life is so often ironic. It is always the way. I cried that night as I did each of the six nights that followed, so that when the day of my departure finally dawned, my lifetime's reserve of tears seemed to have been spent. With that much dread and fear I looked upon this new life, so blind to the blessing being granted that my fingers trembled when I placed them into Madame's beautiful hands, and my heart ached painfully for home._

_Yet as the years passed, time accelerated little by little, until the eventually the weeks flew by like heartbeats, each one escaping cruelly fast despite my best efforts to hold onto them. Those years were never to be forgotten; they were my time of innocence, a parting gift from my beloved mother before she passed away with relief into a better, kinder place. Her death was the only mar to my bliss, as yet the only shadow to stain my soul. The young are strong and my thirteen-year-old self was too innocent, too carefree to allow the sorrow to weigh her down eternally._

_And so I grew, safe, secure and euphoric in my sweet naivety. No matter the fear and cruelty that clouded my annual returns to Black Manor, no matter the distance that grew as silently as a shadow between three sisters who had once declared themselves inseparable, the darkness could not hold me. My happiness was too bright for his deadly embrace to smother._

_Life was for living, and under the lights of Paris and the stones of Beauxbatons, I lived it to the full._

* * *

The deepest, darkest plots are always conducted by candlelight and this one was no different.

The candle itself fought against the darkness with all its strength, as though determined to light up the huge panelled room and show off all the richly furnished glory. Tall, slim and proud it stood, rising out of the ornate holder's grasp. The silver vines curled and crept like snakes, ensnaring the pillar of wax like tentacles, moulded and gleaming and gorgeous in the flame's flickering glare.

A drop of cream fell and immediately cooled upon the walnut desk, but the three men barely spared it a glance, all their attention focused on the thick, stretched out roll of vellum they were bent over. The very quality of the material spoke of the importance of the business, the beautiful French script that decorated it so perfect, so minutely precise it had to have been copied by a master. Everything indicated power and solemnity, of old laws and absolute bindings.

The first man was almost a youth and with youth's decisiveness he did not hesitate. A single nod, a lilting smile and a gleam, dark and triumphant as he picked up the eagle-feather quill and dragged it swiftly across the parchment.

Then he turned and exited the room without a look back.

* * *

It was just turned nine, the most dangerous time of any day for any servant but none more so than the poor nervous souls streaming agitatedly up and down the marble steps of the Hôtel Belle-Ile.

The butler stood at the foot of the magnificent staircase. A tall, as imposing a figure as the huge, richly decorated structure behind him, he was the very best of his calling, the crème de la crème. Even he, however, could not repress the smallest of winces as a pale, trembling newest member of the staff flew past him and mounted the impressive golden stair at a frantic run, in answer to Madame's…dulcet…tones.

"_Celine? Celine_! Where is that silly girl? CELINE!"

Celine's face turned whiter still as the Lady of the House' voice echoed louder and sharper with each call, tripping over the hem of her robes in her rush. The butler felt for the poor lass, despite the fact that she had only herself to blame. Lateness was a fault that at a normal time, on a normal day, Madame would brush off with a flick of her perfect fingers. Mischance however had ordained that her tardiness would occur an hour before the first Ball of the season, and as Celine disappeared from view, Jacques couldn't help but shudder inwardly at the thought of the ear thrashing the unfortunate dresser would receive.

Sure enough, the painful silence was broken by the unmistakable screech of a harpy in full fury.

* * *

Ten minutes later and Madame de Belle-Ile was already regretting her burst of temper but not for the world would she show any sign of remorse. Instead she ignored the charred and smoking curtains that hung around the exquisitely carved four-poster with all her typical haughty contempt and the only word she spoke was a calm demand that Celine should bring out Miss Charis' and Miss Narcissa's robes to her own quarters. She would dress them herself. With a sigh of profound relief Celine obeyed, scuttling out of the elegant powder-blue room in an attempt to redeem her Mistress' favour.

A small nod of approval was her reward when the two dazzling ensembles were carefully levitated to the bed and shown to not have a crease between them. Celine breathed out faintly and the smaller of the two girls that had followed her in, grinned at her in a way that said quite plainly "You see."

Celine smiled tremulously back. God bless the child, she was as sweet and knowing as one twice her age. Miss Narcissa had taken her hand and calmed the dresser's poor nerves with a promise that Madame temper was as swift and forgiving as it was explosive. And the little dear had been right, praise Merlin.

Mademoiselle Charis strode past the pair, as tall and graceful as her name. Her brilliant blue eyes took in the ruined drapes and the pile of cinders beneath them at a glance; they lit up with undutiful mischief but very wisely the girl forbore to comment. Narcissa on the other hand was not so restrained and the irrepressible gurgle of laughter escaped before she could control it.

Madame spun round with a sweep of her robes and a blazing blue glare that wiped the mirth immediately from the child's face. For a dangerous moment both girls held their breath when, just as suddenly, the sound of reluctant, husky laughter brought matching sighs to their lips.

Madame Amelie de Belle-Ile shook her magnificent head in throaty amusement, elegant fingers pressed daintily to her brow as she said ruefully.

"Ahh What it is to be Veela. Come _mes cheries_, we are behind schedule and the Ball will not wait for stragglers."

Her snow white arms lifted with a ballerina's grace and indicated for the pair to come near, one hand going to brush each silken head with love. Narcissa and Charis exchanged swift glances and cheeky smiles that made Madame roll her eyes and shake her head once more, ushering them towards the majestic bed with slow, majestic impatience.

"What children; honestly."

Narcissa laughed, peeping up at the tall, impossibly beautiful lady with such an expression of mischief that the Veela couldn't help but smile back. Then she danced over to the bed and picked up the dress on the right with a gasp of pleasure.

"It's beautiful! Perfect! See Charis!"

The golden curls flew as she spun around holding the blue silk to her chest so that the embroided gold flowers gleamed in the light. Charis grinned back, and shrugged her shoulders in a pretty, teasing gesture.

"It's nice,"she gleamed wickedly, "but pink is so much more feminine, don't you think?"

The soft baby pink dress was held up in a similar fashion and the silk and lace and ribbons shone as she turned back and forth, her grin widening as Narcissa stuck out her tongue in a not very ladylike fashion. Charis tutted laughingly and the girls collapsed in helpless giggles of excitement until Madame finally cleared her throat and took both dresses purposefully from their grips.

"Tch."she sniffed through delicately pinched nostrils, "These are for wear, not play. Now Hurry! Before I leave you both."

Charis and Narcissa bowed their heads obediently, and set to work removing the pleasant day dresses and robes that decorated their slim persons.

The taffeta fell to the floor in a smooth waterfall of colour and, standing side by side in only their white undergarments, it could be seen that the two girls were not as like as one might have originally supposed. A casual observer, upon seeing two pairs of eyes of such deep, luminous blue could be pardoned for assuming the girls were sisters. But in the soft glow of Madame's gorgeous Boudoir, the two were shown to be as different as could be.

The first topped her companion by almost a full head, her figure slim and poignant, her limbs pale as snow and her movements mesmerising in their grace. Madame couldn't quite repress the glow of pride as she looked upon her youngest daughter, a mirror image almost of herself and a true heir to her Veela heritage. Charis met her mother's eyes and smiled, silver hair gleaming like curtain of spun moonlight as the girl bent her head to slip into the folds of the dress.

The soft blush of pink slipped up to fit like a second skin. The chenille silver trimmings glinted as she moved to allow her mother to magically close up the back of the ball gown without a seam. Close and smooth it hugged the slim curve of the fifteen year -old's waist and hips before flaring out into marshmallow skirt, magically kept aloof by a phantom hoop. Matching silk gloves were hastily pulled over frantic fingers, a necklace of pearls was clasped round her white throat and Charis stepped back to gaze at herself appraisingly in the mirror. One last tweak of the bodice and her face lit up in a dazzling smile that showed two rows of perfect teeth. Content, she then turned to throw that smile at the girl who had in the four years since they'd met, become closer than a sister to her.

In any other company Narcissa Black would have been deemed a creature created by magic, an angel perhaps or a muggle fairy. In the company of Madame and her daughter, the effect was naturally dimmed but only very little. The sparkle in eyes of such cornflower blue, the irresistible glow of pleasure and mischief that lit up her face, they somehow held their own against beauty that was indeed unnatural. If her skin was not quite so white, her eyes not quite so deep it really mattered very little, for even in the Veelas ' shadows she cast her own light.

The dress itself was the same sapphire blue of her eyes, the twenty-four carat embroidery no less rich than the golden ringlets that cascaded over her shoulders, as yet untamed and undressed. Madame lifted her wand and indicated for the pair to sit, carefully so as not to crease the gowns. The pair obeyed but as Madame moved behind her daughter's head, Narcissa turned suddenly to throw a beseeching glance at her preceptress.

"The story Madame,"her sparkling tones lilting over the French with only the faintest hint of her English origins, "Tell us it, please!"

Charis immediately seconded the demand.

"_Oui Maman_, it is tradition after all,"she twinkled careful not to move her handsome head and disrupt Madame's administrations.

A tiny frown creased the Veela's white brow, but it was gone to fast for one to guess its cause. Pain perhaps. Or even a darker emotion still, such as disgust or self-hatred.

"You have heard it a thousand times, mes petites. Are you not too old for fairy-stories?"

Both girls instantly and vehemently disclaimed.

"No!"

"One is never too old for fairy-tales!"Charis, unable to move her head, shook her dainty fingers vigorously instead.

"And who knows, we may one day be grown enough to hear the ending!"Narcissa finished with a hopeful expression.

Madame laughed, rich and deep and finally sighed in reluctant consent. She shushed them both, hands flapping for them to turn their triumphant faces back to the huge, ornate mirror that sat responded on the dressing table in front of them. Then, glancing occasionally at their reflections, she drew a heavy, bosom-swelling breath and began with the same words and same low, sensual tones that such a story called for.

_"Once upon time, in a kingdom far far away, there lived three beautiful princesses._

_The first was the youngest, my darlings, in both mind and body. Sweet and dazzling as the dawn she was, so warm and glowing that the angels themselves longed to steal her away and make her one of their own._

_The next was as shining as a star, sparkling like a diamond in sun or rain, sharp of mind and sharp of tongue if needed, oh yes, but ever hidden behind a beauty that made the heavens weep with envy._

_And finally there was the third, loveliest of all, no creature on earth more perfect, no angel nor star more dazzling. Yet as her beauty outshone the others, so did the faults of her nature, Pride, selfishness and vanity, she had them all and yet those three, they loved each other more than life itself._

_Yes, my sweet ones, despite their differences of character no sisters by blood could be closer and to look at, an outsider would have sworn them to have sprung from the same tree, so similar were their looks. Gold of hair, blue of eye and white of skin all three, three snow maidens with three hearts that beat as one."_

Madame's voice rolled like waves on the sea, lulling and soothing as it washed over the girls, making lashes flutter and movements still as the room turned quiet save only the deep, dream-like tones.

_"Together they lived in a shining castle, content in their love for each other and for life. The years passed and as they grew, no shadow darkened their days, no sadness to dull their nights; they became more beautiful with each new dawn._

_Then, one day, the moment finally came for them to marry, mes chères, and the hopefuls rode up on white stallions. Three stallions for three princes that knocked on the golden gates to the castle, begging for entry and enter they did._

_A ball was held in welcome, and there, for the first time, the princesses met the handsome princes._

_The first prince kissed the angel's hand, silver hair and silver eyes gleaming in the candlelight as he asked her to dance. And what did she do? She agreed, my loved ones, but even as they touched and even as they twirled, she could not help but stare behind._

_The second prince kissed the star's cheek, and she flushed before his black gaze, her heart and reason and even her quick tongue lost, stolen by the man with ebony hair and golden skin. They too danced, and never had the star shone so bright as she did in the darkness' hold._

_The third prince was last in line, and he halted before the third princess, loveliest of all. But though in that single moment two hearts were lost, his bright eyes were not looking at the third and final princess. And when she turned to see upon whom he stared with such longing, something in her broke and crumbled into pain and bitter jealousy."_

The words were somehow sharper, the princess' bitterness seeping into the story and the air and as so many times before, Charis and Narcissa's fingers clenched in dread for what was about to come. And still the words fell from Madame's lips as she moved from her daughter's head to Narcissa's.

_"For you see my darlings, it was the angel for whom he had fallen, utterly and completely, and reading the minds of men as she did, the third princess felt the burn of bitter envy in her throat, the sting of hatred for one she loved so well._

_And in that pain my darlings, she did something she would regret until the day her lonely heart stopped beating."_

_The words trembled with emotion. Agony stung the silence, and the girls' heads lowered under it's lash._

_"The third princess abandoned her sisters, running from the envy and leaving them in their hour of greatest need. For in that moment as they were unguarded, the two princes shed their handsome disguises to transform into their true horrific natures, two demons, clad in black and silver._

_The black demon grasped the star by the shoulders and announced to the ball; A kiss to seal! And kiss her he did, and at that moment she was bound to him for all eternity. He took her in his arms and soared away back to his hellish kingdom to make her his queen._

_The silver demon saw the way the angel looked at the third prince, and he smiled a demon smile. He too led the angel to the centre of the room, but rather than her shoulders, he grasped her wrists tight enough for her to cry out in pain and fear. A cry that made it's way as a terrified echo to the third princess' ears._

_The loveliest of them all turned, realising her terrible mistake and prayed to the gods she would not be too late. But even as she burst through the door, the silver-eyed demon spoke the dreaded words_

_'A chain to hold, and a kiss to seal."_

_And in a flash, chains of gold appeared round the angel's wrists, and as his lips touched hers, the vow was made complete. The angel was bound to him, both her heart and her soul, the kiss making her his wife and the chains declaring her his slave."_

Madame's voice grew softer, her chest that had swelled, slowly lowering in a heavy sigh.

"_He bore her away my sweets, forcing her to obey his every command and the third princess and the third prince could only weep for the loss of their loved ones."_

For a long moment no voice shattered the poignant silence, even the soft breeze from the window stilled as if in mourning. Then finally a single, soft sigh broke the spell caused by bitter love and Veela magic.

"It is such a sad story,"Charis murmured.

"But I'm sure the prince came after her,"said Narcissa almost forcefully, "because a princess always dreams of her prince."

The girls were stirring. Madame made no answer and carefully used her wand to fix in place one last shining lock of hair to the ensemble. A delicate wreath of the lightest gold and tiny sapphires was set around the pile of curls that sat on the top of the girl's head like a crown. Narcissa waited as Madame gently pulled loose some tendrils to frame her oval face before glancing up at her patroness with huge, pleading eyes.

"Please Madame, will you not tell us the end."

But Madame was already shaking her handsome head and with looks of disappointment, Charis and Narcissa obeyed the gesture for them to rise and be appraised. A swift, piercing look was cast over both, and then she handed the girls their masks; one blue silk and gold diamond shaped cushioning, the other all pink and silver lace.

Madame allowed herself a small smile of approval, soft and slightly sad as the sight before her indicated how much time had passed and how that which remained diminished a little more each day. Three more years at most. No more. The thick fringe of lashes fluttered briefly shut but the pain was pushed aside before the little ones could see. Madame drew herself up bowed her magnificent head towards the door.

"_On y va_."

* * *

The Hôtel Charbonne was so brightly lit and such a momentous change from the evening gloom, that when the coach drew to a halt outside the noble edifice and the footman let down the steps, Narcissa had to cover her eyes behind her mask against the almost blinding brilliance. The three-sided court was a blaze of light, shining from each and every one of the hundreds of un-shuttered windows that gave onto it. Huge glittering globes were magically suspended above the never-ending, stream of carriages, all pausing to allow their Masters and Mistresses to alight, then passing on to allow others to take their place. Two rows of House-elves in matching gilded tea-towels proudly lined the white stone entrance, bowing as each guest passed inside.

Madame gave her hand to the footman and alighted without sparing the boy a glance. Charis followed her imperious lead before stepping back just a place to wait for the last occupant of the carriage, blue eyes taking in the magnificence with a pleased smile of familiarity.

Narcissa waved her wand so that the mask rested unaided on her face and placed her delicate fingers into the servants waiting hand, turning her head to bestow upon the unsuspecting boy a dazzling smile as she did so. His suddenly flushed cheeks and glazed expression made her bite back a mischievous laugh but Charis was already taking her arm with a roll of her eyes.

"_Ah la la_ Cici, save your smiles and your charms for Tristan."

The answering giggle was abruptly stifled as Madame turned with autocratic grace, one perfectly groomed brow raised in haughty impatience. At once the girls moved forward, blue and pink side by side as they mounted the stairs and followed Madame through the golden doors and into the resplendent Hall. A nod to the waiting servant and all three ladies discarded their robes to relinquish them in the house-elf's care with sharp instructions not to crease or fold them. Then the threesome made their way to the very end of the antechamber, Madame a pace ahead, and both girls blinked as they walked through the huge marble archway into a blast of light.

The staircase flowed from their feet like a river of gold. Fifty foot above the crowd they stood, only for a moment whilst Madame conjured three stamped scrolls and handed them to the waiting Footman. He glanced at them briefly, reading the names and checking his own list before, with a speed that made Narcissa blink, drawing his wand and setting alight to them in a burst of fire. The ashes disappeared into nothing. The footman bowed respectfully low and waved the three ladies to the stairs.

Below them a thousand silk-clad and masked figures danced and twirled and flirted under the glare of the scintillating chandelier that dominated the gigantic ballroom. So immense it must have held three thousand candles, it hung suspended by invisible chain like a glorious, glowing star, illuminating the vast dimensions of the court. The orchestra played on a raised dais and huge windows towered from ceiling to floor, decorated with rich velvet hangings and ruby frills.

The entire space could have held the Hôtel Bell-Isle and all its gardens with ease. It was Paris' ballroom, and tonight, the first night of the season, Paris in it's entirety had come to adorn it.

As Narcissa descended the last step the glow of complete and utter content almost overwhelmed her. Here, under the candles and the arches, with Charis tall and resplendent as the house itself at her side, she couldn't help but feel like she was truly home.

Both girls turned to Madame who had paused a little to their right to talk and laugh with a lady in a puce gown who despite the mask had recognised the party instantly. Charis and Narcissa smiled, unsurprised. Even among the very very finest of Paris' inhabitants, Veela blood and power could not be disguised. The unreal grace with which she moved, the way male heads turned to stare, befuddled without even knowing why; Madame Amelie de Belle-Isle could no more pass incognito that she could fly to the moon.

To a certain extent it was a fact that held also true of her daughters. Narcissa turned to smile lovingly at the tall beauty at her side. Charis and Appolline, although only half-Veela's, nevertheless carried much of their mother's presence. Both remarkably tall, both impossibly beautiful, they lit up the room like two suns. Appolline was two years older than the girls and had just finished her sixth and final year at Beauxbatons. To celebrate, she and her friends had left barely a week ago in a Grand Tour, similar to the ones young nobleman would complete in days gone by, before settling down to marriage and the management of their estates. Narcissa was torn in two by her departure. On one hand, she adored the elder Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle and had secretly idolised her when she was younger, but on the other, the remaining three weeks before her return to England would be undeniably more enjoyable without the constant hassle of keeping her loved ones separate. Of a brighter, sunnier disposition than her younger sister, Appolline could never fail to grate on Charis' nerves if the pair were together for too long a period.

Narcissa shook her golden head with a mischievous smile. However much she loved Appolline, loyalty dictated that she had to side with her soul-sister. What else were best friends for?

"You're dreaming again Cici!"the best friend in question broke into Narcissa's aimless thoughts with a wicked grin. "Come on, Maman has said we may go and the others should already be here."

Narcissa shook herself from her daze immediately, a glowing smile lighting up her pretty features at the thought of seeing the other three girls in their group of friends. Even a ten days of separation was long when she was so used to seeing Marguerite and Eugénie every day. Craning her head, she tried desperately to see over the crowd and get her bearings.

"Which way is _La Salle_?"she asked ignoring Charis' mocking smirk. The half-Veela took her by her gloved hand and pulled her through a cluster of older Dowagers and behind one of the gold pillars.

The huge number of people present made the heat rather stifling, and it was with slightly flushed cheeks behind the decorative masks that the two girls finally emerged some minutes later at the doorway to the _Salle de Guerre_.

Two young demoiselles in lilac and amber huddled beside the imposing archway, their pretty ringlets intermingled as though they exchanged secrets. However the moment Narcissa and Charis squeezed past one particular gentleman's impressive bulk, both squealed with pleasure and excitement.

Eugénie threw herself into Charis' arms with a vigour and strength belied by her tiny figure and hugged her friend tight enough to make her gasp for air. The tiny brunette giggled and drew back to embrace Narcissa next, her sparkling green eyes bright with mischief.

Marguerite hung a little further back, her pleasure just as strong but rather more dignifiedly expressed. The gentle brown hand not holding her wand reached forward to grip first Narcissa's fingers and then Charis. She smiled, soft and slow to reveal dazzling white teeth and as always Narcissa was struck by her friend's resemblance to her part-Asian mother. Marguerite's long black hair gleamed almost blue as she tilted back her head and said with deceptive placidness.

"We had almost given you up. I never though I'd see the day when Grace and Beauty turned up late to a ball.»

Charis grinned back and Eugenie giggled merrily as she said

"Or were you being Vanity tonight, and taking too long in front of the mirror."she twinkled naughtily.

Charis' grin abruptly faded but Narcissa took her friend's mockery in good part, throwing a calming smile towards the half-Veela and shrugging daintily.

"Alas, growing up in a house of Veela makes one hopelessly aware of one's own inadequacy."she laughed wickedly, knowing full well the pout of disapproval that would be spreading over her best friend's perfect features.

Sure enough Charis let out an unladylike snort and grabbed Eugénie by the arm.

"Absolute rubbish. Come on, we'd better move back to the other side of the Ballroom if were to have any hope of some unfortunate taking this baggage off ours hands."

The words were softened by an affectionate flick at the smaller girl's round cheek and with a naughty grin Eugénie skipped lightly after her, leaving Narcissa and Marguerite to follow in their wake.

The music came to an end amidst much applause and the band were striking up for country dance. Narcissa couldn't quite keep her eyes from flitting back and forth in search of one particular figure, and Marguerite smiled her slow smile.

"I don't think he's arrived yet."Narcissa flushed beneath her mask and turned to grin sheepishly into her friend's knowing expression. She briefly contemplated feigning ignorance but a moment later her lips parted in a rueful chuckle.

"He does tend to be late,"Narcissa twinkled affectionately. Marguerite nodded and replied solemnly.

"You'll have to punish him."

Narcissa burst out laughing, her big blue eyes sparkling with pure amusement and Marguerite faintly raised her brows in mock affront. The giggle was finally suppressed as the girl said chokingly

"You do know we aren't going out?"

Again Marguerite looked down at her with cool, wide-eyed placidness.

"All the more reason. He'd be well served if you allowed yourself to be booked for every dance."

Narcissa shook her head and was about to reply when suddenly a group of gentleman shifted and the pair stepped forward onto the very edge of the vast space reserved for dancing, that was empty save the couples that were moving to the floor. Charis and Eugénie waved from some three meters away, their haste explained as the other two drew near and Charis whispered urgently.

"He's searching for you Marguerite!"

Eugenie look like she was about to explode with excitement. Even Narcissa swung round with huge smile of pleasure for her friend but the recipient of this information remained largely unmoved. Only the briefest clench of her caramel fingers upon the smooth lilac folds of her dress indicated that this calm was perhaps a little more forced than the sloe-eyed girl was letting on. Marguerite moved forward to the very edge of the floor, her chin elegantly held aloof and sure enough a moment later, a young man in a dark purple dress shirt and smartly pressed trousers strode forward and bowed over her hand.

"If Mademoiselle would do me the honour?"he murmured, the words a caress. Behind the embroided mask his eyes danced and his fine lips curved upwards into a smile as faintly mocking as Marguerite's own. The girls desperately held back squeals as their friend nodded and was led to the centre of the room. Then the music began and Narcissa sighed dreamily as Antoine swept Marguerite across the floor with a poise and grace that had people ogling the pair in admiration.

Charis caught the outtake of breath and grinned at her friend's romanticism. Antoine and Marguerite had first began courting a year ago, much to the world's surprise. Indeed even the teachers had been stunned when the aloof Asian beauty had finally given in to the dark-haired playboy's demand of a date. The pair had never publicly become "official"even to their closest friends, but a year later the two were still other-wise unattached and seen together frequently enough to hint that a proposal might very well be soon on the cards.

Narcissa couldn't help but be happy for them. Both offspring of well-to-do pureblood families, they had had the rare good fortune to fall in love with someone not only of good-breeding but also highly eligible in terms of wealth. From the hints that her self-possessed friend rarely let slip, their parents were already planning the pair's wedding and discussing dowries and incomes.

But Antoine's presence also had sparked excitement in her breast for another quite different reason. Namely that the tall, dark-haired charmer also happened to be the best friend and accomplice in flirtation of a certain Tristan de LeRoy.

Tristan de LeRoy. The mere thought of his name brought a faint blush to Narcissa's pale cheeks. Tall, devilishly handsome, ridiculously charming, Tristan was one of the most sought-after bachelors in the whole of Beauxbatons. Famous for never keeping a steady girlfriend for longer than a month her had unexpectedly developed an interest in the year-younger English rose, an interest that had made her an object of jealousy for most of the girls in the school.

Narcissa wasn't quite sure what to make of the sixth year. For the past four months he had refused each and every one of the numerous declarations and demands from other members of the female population, instead choosing to spend much of his free time with Narcissa Evangeline Black. He'd never taken their relationship further then simply flirting but still, rumours were rapidly growing about the possibility that the schools most eligible male could be on the way to being caught at last. On her part, Narcissa had no intention of falling for the charms of a well-known player, but after four months of casual dalliance, part of her couldn't help but wonder if he might actually be more interested than he was letting on. And if he were… Narcissa shook her head sharply. Then perhaps she would allow herself to think about his mysterious, dark blue eyes or the wicked, winning grin that curved his full lips. Then and only then.

Still she couldn't quite justify the reason her gaze flickered more often that not to the huge gold-encrusted marble staircase that rose out from the bustling crowd. Charis noticed her preoccupation and grinned, leaning over to Eugenie to whisper in her ear, one hand already lifting towards Narcissa's averted profile when suddenly a sickly sweet voice wiped all traces of amusement from her face.

"Well, well. If it isn't "_ZE GANG_"."

All three girls turned abruptly to stare with looks of blatant dislike towards the newcomer. Narcissa relaxed her shoulders and ran her eyes down Aurélie's shamelessly flaunted voluptuous curves with a look of distain. Eugénie was glancing warily from the girl to Charis, who was now looking so furious the air seemed to almost crackle around her.

Aurélie de Richelieu sneered openly, scarlet lips curled beneath her scarlet mask. Lustrous _chatain_ locks were piled up on her head, with only one slipping free to lay seductively against the high, bounteous curve of her impressive cleavage. The blood red dress was moulded to her sensual form, emphasizing the chestnut skin and setting it aglow under the flickering candlelight. Narcissa, looking at their old enemy with intense dislike, couldn't help but own her a ridiculously handsome creature, despite detesting every inch of her gorgeous countenance.

"Move on _De Richelieu_; there are no boyfriends for you to seduce here."Charis bit out scathingly, her temper flaring dangerously as the girl's green, catlike eyes lit up in cruel pleasure through the slits of her mask.

"Still griping at that old wound, Veela."she suddenly turned to smile viciously at little Eugenie. "I grew bored of him months ago; would you like him back?"

The flush on Eugénie's cheeks, the brightness of pain in her round eyes pushed Charis' temper up to a blaze. Experience made Narcissa rest a cool hand on her best friend's arm, warning her of the risk she was running by letting the bitch provoke her so easily. It took a few long moments but eventually the whirlwind of power leaking out from Charis rigid form began slowly to lessen. Her white fists unclenched, her chest heaving in silent deep breaths, Aurélie's mocking smirk taunting her all the while.

It was then that a movement at the top of the exquisite staircase caught Narcissa's eye, and her golden head spun round in sudden hope.

A tall figure was gracefully descending, in deep black robes that swirled like a cape around his lean yet muscular form. Each step was mesmerising, deliberate and poised like a movement from a dance. Somewhere her mind was shouting at her that this was not Tristan, that Tristan was not so tall nor quite so broad, so therefore why was she gazing at him in such a fixed manner. But the voice was ignored, and cornflower blue eyes stared huge and round at the unknown gentleman, until all too quick he was stood paused at the very foot.

Aurélie and Charis noticed the fixedness of her attention and turned in search of whatever had caught the girl's eye. A tiny frown creased the half-vela's brow, as something, some flash of insight immediately whispered that this man was not quite what he seemed. On Aurélie however, the gentleman was obviously having another, quite different effect.

A pink velvet tongue slipped out to caress her parted lips with predatory hunger. She glanced at Narcissa's fascinated face and her eyes glowed wickedly green as she folded her smooth arms deliberately.

"Mine."Only one word did she speak, but it had all three girls spinning round to glare at her in confusion and suspicion.

"The handsome newcomer,"she smiled sweet and lilting, "Unless you're up for the challenge."

Charis curled her pretty lip in disgust, looking down at the other girl's dark triumphant face with decided distaste.

"You really are a man-whore. But if you really are so foolish as to set yourself up against a Veela…"The question was left mockingly unfinished as her lips curled again, this time in the wicked smirk of victory.

Aurélie shrugged her caramel shoulders.

"I am not THAT naïve. We all know you could have him with a snap of your bony fingers _De Belle-Isle_, but winning by such methods is hardly the point is it not?"against she smiled that same sugary smile.

"No, I was wondering if _la petite anglaise_ would be up for the game. Or perhaps the dwarf"she sneered down into Eugénie's flushed face, "One bad turn deserves another, after all."

Narcissa interrupted before Eugenie could let out the irate squeak that was hovering on her pale lips.

"I'll do it, _De Richelieu._ And if I win, I don't want to see hide nor hair of you this entire season. Not one ball, nor _Levée_ nor S_oirée_."

Aurélie's almond eyes narrowed, making them look more cat-like than ever, but the gentle smile still remained fixed on her scarlet lips.

"Fine. And if I win, you have no right to interfere with my seduction of Tristan de LeRoy."she challenged softly.

Narcissa stiffened. Charis almost snarled with fury and even little Eugénie summoned the courage to glare up at the dark-skinned girl with intense hatred. But finally Narcissa nodded, her chin lifted as regally as queen, before sweeping her skirts aside in a mockingly respectful curtsey.

"_Soit._ And as the challenged in this case, I claim the right to make the first move."her blue eyes pinned the other girl to the ground. Aurélie begrudgingly nodded. Narcissa's answering smile gleamed liked sunshine on a river.

"Then _Mademoiselles_, I will leave you observe."

Narcissa picked up her skirts and made to disappear into the crowds when a hand on her arm made her pause. Charis' lovely face stared worriedly down into hers, her lower lip chewed between perfect teeth as she said too soft for the others to hear

"Perhaps this isn't a good idea."

Narcissa clasped her hand affectionately, a mischievous grin on her parted lips.

"Love is a leap of faith, ma chère."Charis could not but smile back but still she shook her magnificent head as though to shake off an ill-feeling.

"It is not you I have no faith in, Cici."

Narcissa's tone was soft and coaxing as she said

"Then trust me. I have lived for the past four years in a house full of Veela's. You'd be surprised what one can pick up."

Before Charis could reply, Narcissa slipped out of her grasp and, with one last naughty peep through her lashes, she was gone. Charis sighed, trying her best to stifle the foreboding in her heart and stepped back to where Aurélie and Eugenie stood, eyes fixed on the tall dark figure that now lounged against one of the towering windows. And, glancing round quickly across the room, Charis noted, they were far from being the only ones.

Eugénie gripped her friend's hand, and the half-Veela looked down at her reassuringly. To their right, Aurélie de Richelieu's smooth velvet tones said with deceptive softness.

"Let the games begin."

* * *

The next man read through the manuscript with wide, weary eyes.

At the very end he paused, just long enough to be called hesitation and seeing this the third man took the eagle feather quill in his white grip and held it out with an soft smile. The gentleman took with shaking fingers, his shoulders hunched as though bent over with despair, dark hair clinging to a brow that shone with sweat in the all-seeing candlelight. The flame flickered, almost in pity, for the man that screamed of power and strength shrivelled into nothing. Then, with a final glance towards the other occupant of the room, he put the quill to parchment and signed the very bottom in slow, black calligraphy.

The vellum glowed.

* * *

Up close, he was even more appealing than he had been from a distance, Narcissa admitted reluctantly, eyeing him speculatively as she decided on the best approach to take. Now that she was here, only three short meters away, another truth was becoming more and more apparent.

He was also decidedly more daunting.

His long ebony robes gave the illusion that he was shrouded in darkness, until one picked out the rich silver thread and gleaming buttons that decorated the velvet folds. They were thrown almost casually back from broad shoulders, revealing an exquisitely tasteful dress shirt and pants, and a fountain of lace held at his throat with a striking emerald broach. This and a single, heavy signet ring were his only ornaments, but somehow the lack of ostentation only served to emphasize the man's natural beauty; he needed no more embellishment.

His face was turned away from her, scanning the crowds and dancing couples with a searing gaze that sent a thrill through her body. Only his lips and chin were visible, the rest of his features hidden behind a mask made from black eagle-owl feathers, a rare and expensive luxury, she noted with surprise. Whoever this stranger was, he did not lack for money, that much was certain.

The lips themselves were beautiful enough to make her stare, full and soft and palest pink they seemed to be made for kissing, even with her limited experience. They were set above a chin that was pointed yet somehow masculine and from her viewpoint, she could see the flawless white skin run smoothly right down to his collar-bone, where it disappeared into the elegant folds of his cravat. Long white-blond hair was restrained at the nape of that beautiful neck, by a single black ribbon, contrasting strongly against the silver and Narcissa felt an unfamiliar urge to release the gleaming strands and run her tiny fingers through them.

All in all he was even more handsome than she had supposed possible. Narcissa inhaled deeply in an attempt to summon her courage before it deserted her completely, reminding herself that if she did not, Aurélie would be quick enough to take her place. For some reason the thought steeled her.

"_Monsieur?"_

The single word was spoken with just the right note of charm and hesitation, Narcissa noted with inward pride. But the gentleman did not, contrary to her expectations, immediately look her way. Instead she thought she saw his eyes rolls upwards before finally, with an insulting nonchalance, turning his handsome head just enough to take in the appearance of his accoster.

That slow, passionless gaze brought the tiniest of flushes to her cheeks; Narcissa thanked Merlin for the presence of the mask that hid it from his notice. He looked her up and down, as one might a horse, Narcissa thought indignantly, his eyes lingering without shame on the curve of her bare shoulders, the impressive mounds of her cleavage and the impossibly small circle of her waist. Narcissa fought to keep the irritation from her features and her posture but suddenly his eyes snapped to hers, sparkling with the barest hint of amusement, as though he'd read her mind and found it intriguing.

Still holding her gaze, he finally opened those perfect lips and breathed a soft single, appreciative word.

"_Mademoiselle."_

Again the faint lilt of mockery in that velvet voice ruffled her feathers, and it was with a decided effort that Narcissa fixed a wide dazzling smile to her face and descended into a beautiful curtsy. He bowed over the hand she offered and brought to his lips with a grace that put hers to shame. Narcissa forced her mouth not to fall open in shock, only staring at him slightly dazedly as he brushed her knuckles with his kiss and moved back all with that same mesmerising ease of movement.

A moment later she recollected herself, mentally shaking her head to chase away the strange impression of déja-vu, and cleared her throat to blithely speak her next lines.

"Monsieur is alone? Perhaps he might like some company."

Her eyes sparkled, huge and impossibly blue through the slits of her mask but instead of being dazzled the gentleman replied with a clipped shake of his head.

_"Mille pardons, Mademoiselle._ But I am looking for someone in particular."

His French was perfect but with the faintest trace of an accent. Narcissa blinked at him, trying to convince herself that there had been at least a faint note of regret in the stranger's velvet tones, but inside, her mind was in shock. He'd turned her down. And more to the point; it hurt, Narcissa swallowed. She took a deep breath, determined not to lose so easily.

"Perhaps I could assist you…?"

"Narcissa!"

Narcissa turned at the sound of her name being called from a couple who were just leaving the dance floor, so fast that she did not see the gentleman's head spin round in a flash. Nor did she see his suddenly burning gaze flicker from her averted profile to Marguerite's approaching figure, back and forth, gleaming in a some dark realisation.

Narcissa welcomed her friend and her cavalier with a wide, excited smile and Marguerite gripped Narcissa's hands affectionately, but her black eyes were on the tall dark stranger.

"Oh."she said in surprise, "I beg your pardon, I assumed you had found Tristan. Antoine was hoping to talk with him. _Toutes mes excuses, Monsieur_."she sank into a graceful curtsey and the stranger bowed over her hand with a smooth reply of

"It was nothing."

Antoine eyed the gentleman considering, his dark blue eyes watchful as he observed the way the stranger's gaze never left Narcissa's face. When he held out his hand, it was therefore with a certain coolness, as he mentally cursed Tristan and his stupid nonchalance. Judging by the way this man was looking at the English beauty, if Tristan didn't turn up soon, he might well lose his chance. Still Antoine's casually good-looking features were fixed into a smile as he said politely

"Antoine de Maine; at your service, Monsieur."

The gentleman in black took the outstretched hand, but ignored the silent question as to his own identity and merely nodded.

_"Et le vôtre, Monsieur de Maine." _And yours.

Antoine frowned, but before he could comment, Marguerite had grasped the meaning of Narcissa's significant glances over towards where Charis, Eugenie and Aurélie all stood, and gently pressed her love's arm.

"Perhaps Charis has seen him?"she said in her smooth placid tones, already pulling her companion in the other direction. For a moment Antoine looked as though he wished to stay and press the issue of the stranger's rudeness, but then he sighed and nodded. The couple bowed one final time and disappeared into the masses, leaving Narcissa and the stranger alone.

When her friends were out of sight, Narcissa let the small, dreamy sigh she'd been holding in before turning back with a start to the gentleman in black who still stood as motionless as a statue at her left hand.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"The apology almost faltered before the look in the man's eyes. A gasp crept up her throat but was repressed as his gaze scorched into hers, dark and gleaming, feasting upon her face with a strange, almost cruel triumph. Narcissa swallowed, instinctively cringing away from the intensity in that look, the mockery in that faint curving smile.

A second later and the expression that had frightened her was gone. Instead his lips curved a smile so beautiful, so angelic it touched some cord of memory within her. Narcissa blinked, as the sudden light and tenderness in that smile left her all but breathless. His hand crept out to take gentle hold of hers without her even realising it. Only when the faint pressure of his lips through her silk gloves brought her to her senses did she suddenly become aware that he was kissing the tiny fingers with a reverence he had not shown before. And still his bewitching gaze never left hers.

They stood their like that for a long, breath-taking moment. Then his lips parted as if to speak when suddenly a tall voluptuous figure stepped forward until she was almost between them, familiar lilting smile already painted on her scarlet lips.

"Why Narcissa, you must introduce me to your new friend, not keep him so selfishly to yourself."Aurélie never removed her striking green eyes from the stranger's face, drinking in his features so greedily that her lips seemed parted in real thirst. Narcissa clenched her fists but resisted the unladylike impulse, her voice carefully rigid and controlled as she replied

"Monsieur, this is…"

"_Aurélie de Richelieu_."the seductress cut smoothly off, scarlet lips spread into a expression of almost scandalous enticement.

Matching scarlet nails gleamed like bloody claws in the candlelight as she held out her caramel hand and curtsied low enough to give the gentleman full view down her admittedly appealing cleavage. Narcissa grit her little white teeth, cursing the slut inwardly but to her surprise the gentleman merely bowed over the hand before putting it away from him as quickly as possible. Narcissa felt a rush of gratitude towards the stranger, despite her earlier fear and when his hypnotic smile gleamed conspiringly at her over Aurélie's dark head, she returned it mischivously.

Aurélie rose with a petulant expression, pouting up into the blond man's face with huge soulful eyes.

"Would _Monsieur_ not like to dance?"she lilted sweetly, batting long dark lashes through the slits of her mask. The stranger looked down at her impassively.

"_Monsieur _would indeed."he finally lilted back with a smile equally as sweet. Narcissa's blue eyes turned huge in dismay and Aurélie's smirk widened in delicious triumph.

"Which is why I have already begged Miss Black to do me the honour."?

Ignoring the look of complete horror that left the dark-skinned girl's mouth gaping open, he moved with impossible grace to Narcissa's side and recaptured her hand in his long elegant fingers. His gaze smouldered, Narcissa's heart skipped a beat as once more he pressed it to his lips and murmured soft and sensual against the silk

"If she is agreable?"

As if in a trance, Narcissa mutely nodded, her voice and her self-control stolen away by silver eyes and soft, sweet smile. Gentle as mother's love he drew her hand through his arm and led her towards the floor, where the orchestra were striking up for a softer, slower waltz. Again some flicker of recognition flashed in her brain, but it was too small, too weak to complete against the gentleman's intoxicating presence. Romance was the one the she dreamed of and romance this man was, from his dark, smouldering gaze to the secrets that danced and intrigued behind his white-toothed smile.

Narcissa allowed him to pull her into his arms, one hand dangerously low on the small of her back, the other grasping hers in a grip to powerful, too possessive for propriety. Her head barely topped his chin, all she could see was the elegance of his ensemble, the strange green glow of the serpants eyes, nestling in the froth of lace and the smooth white skin of his collar-bone as he waited for the first beat and began to move.

As they twirled across the floor, his skin scorching hot through the thin material of her dress, his grace so unreal that even other couples halted to stare with wonder, Narcissa could only breath, tremulous, shaking breaths of pleasure and nervousness intermingled. With each rise and fall of her breast, the gentleman's clasp became just a little tighter until he could feel every curve of her frame against his chest and stomach.

And with each sensuous revolution, the deadly smirk that touched his lips stretched just a little wider.

* * *

The sky was a blue-black carpet or stars above their heads when he led her out onto the silent balcony. After two consecutive waltzes, the flush in Narcissa's cheeks and the accelerated rhythms of her breathing indicated that a reprieve from the heat and the stifling atmosphere in the ballroom might do her good. And the tall, dark stranger had been right, Narcissa thought, as her lashes fluttered closed in bliss from the cool refreshing breeze that danced across the terrace and ruffled her gown.

She ran to the balcony in sudden pleasure, gripping it tightly with her fingers as she stared out longingly over the lights of Paris. The Eiffel Tower was lit up like a column of fire-flies, the river Seine, curved and twisted like a black ribbon, and the night air was filled by the sounds of laughter and music from the street-cafés and restaurants that gleamed below her.

"You find it beautiful."

A statement not a question, but the sudden closeness of the voice made Narcissa start round in alarm before laughing blithely at her own silliness. The black shadow crept closer, silent as a ghost and strangely disconcerting in the half-light, his tall frame coming to rest on the stone beside her, leaning out in a gesture that matched her own. Narcissa smiled shyly.

"I love it. I don't think I could ever be happier than I am here. This city, these lights, these people."she sighed, lifting her masked face to the breeze and the sky, as though begging them to come and take her with them.

"Am I included in those thoughts?"he looked at her with that soft silken smile until Narcissa met his gaze, a faint flush in her cheeks.

"That depends, are you intending on telling me your name?"she said airily, before adding with a faint frown, "Or whom you were supposed to be meeting."

He smiled at the hint of childish petulance behind the light, casual tone; she obviously was obviously mistrusting of this unknown rival. Narcissa saw the smile and flushed a little darker, embarrassed at how much she'd unintentionally let slip. His voice made her raise her head once more, this time in shock.

"My fiancé."

The aghast expression on her face was a picture. Then it faded to acute embarrassment as Narcissa turned away with a muttered apology and made to escape back to the ballroom, when suddenly two strong grips at her wrist made her finally look up into his face.

"I've don't even know what she looks like."he said softly, the words explanation and apology both. Narcissa bit her lip doubtfully and peeped up at him through her long lashes.

"Why…Why are you marrying her then?"she said in a very small voice, fighting to hold back the ache of disappointment.

His teeth gleamed white in the darkness, white and almost vicious in a smirk too cruel to be called a smile yet too lovely to be a grimace. He leaned in close, so that his hot breath caressed her cheeks beneath the rim of the mask, tantalising her senses and her skin and leaving her wanting…something, something that she couldn't begin to explain. He breathed the reply across her lips, merciless and mesmerising

"Revenge."

With that single word his fingers tightened cruelly around her wrists, harsh enough to leave her bruised and to force a cry of pain from her parted lips. And as that frightened gasp escaped, he said clearly in voice of steel words that somewhere in her brain she recognised, fleeting and tangible but too fast for her to grasp.

"A chain to hold,…"golden light glowed around the wrists that he still held and all at once the pain from his grip was ten times more, excruciating, unbearable, making her scream silently as he continued

"…And a kiss to seal."

Her eyes opened in sudden fear but it was too late. His handsome head bent faster than the eyes could see and crushed her mouth under his. Hot and scalding, possessive and cruel, Narcissa could barely breath as his lips devoured her, as though claiming her completely as his own. Air escaped in a silent cry and his tongue leapt into the breach, rough velvet dominating her mouth and making her head spin. She was limp and loose in his arms, wrists still clammed in that merciless grip and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew the pain still burned, but all she could feel was the searing heat of his kiss.

And just when she thought she was slipping into a faint, he released her, pressing her trembling figure back against the stone support of the balcony with only a last brush of one icy finger against her cheek.

"Let no other man touch you, my beauty."

The whisper held something of a command and he spoke it with a strange relish. It was accompanied with a cruel gleam of triumph and that deadly smirk but Narcissa didn't see. The pain in her wrist was too great, and now with her head suddenly cleared from the sudden gush of air, it seem to increase tenfold. Dimly she was aware of a voice calling her name in worry, and a tall figure running to her side.

"Narcissa! What the…"

Narcissa looked up, knowing that voice and needing it and sure enough Tristan's handsome face hovered before her eyes, creased in fear, fear for her she realised. She looked up at him gratefully, a smile tilting the corners of her lips despite the pain.

"Tristan, the man…the stranger in the black robes…"

Tristan turned swiftly, casting his sharp angry gaze around the balcony but there was no-one. The stone semi-circle was as silent and empty as the grave, save the poor trembling girl clinging painfully to the balustrade. Her tiny hands lifted to grab the front of his robes, her eyes huge in the darkness with the lingering fear. Tristan couldn't help it he reached out to cup her cheek, simply wanting, needing to somehow reassure her and wipe the terror from her face.

Narcissa leaned into his touch, sighing with the bliss of his comforting hand. But something was wrong. Faint at first but growing faster and faster, a searing pain burnt the place where his skin touched hers, a pain that grew bigger and bigger until she pulled away with a scream from the overwhelming agony. She met Tristan's confusion with a look so stricken it made his heart ache.

"What's happened to me?"

A faint terrified whisper that the boy had no answer for. All he could do was try to help her to her feet without letting his hand touch her bare skin. Narcissa felt her body lean against his frame but already the pain was returning and she started back with a gasp, two gazes wide and helpless under the pale cool gaze of the stars.

In the shadows of the velvet hangings, the cruel, victorious smirk stretched wider than it had in almost four years.

* * *

Five hundred miles away, another man smirked that same smirk as he replaced the eagle feather quill of the walnut desk without a glance at the dark-haired man who sat there so numbly. Long silver hair glinted in the candles glow as, underneath the three signatures, the pool of scarlet wax he had just dropped onto the manuscript hardened into the unmistakable indentation of a pair of lips.

As if by magic, the parchment rolled itself up. There was faint golden glow and then, on the outside of the vellum a tiny pattern emerged as though painted by an invisible hand, winding around the scroll to join on the overlapping edge. The man smiled wider still, silver eyes a-gleam in the darkness as he touched the golden ink with almost loving fingers.

As he did so, the miniature golden padlock shut and made the chain complete.

* * *

**Whew! That really was long, lol. Anyway there it is, Chapter Number 2 and I hope so very very much that you guys liked it. As much as I liked writing it.**

**To other business, All Over Again Chapter 24 is almost finished as well, which I'm sure people will be pleased about. I was intending on putting them up at the same time but then I felt like rewarding myself a little for finishing this one lol.**

**As always, read, hopefully enjoy and PLEASE review lol ;) You know it makes me smile quite ridiculously. =)**

**Lots a luv to you all**

**Lili**  
**X x x x x x x x x x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there all! I'm afraid to AOA Chapter 27 is still not finished sigh but as you can see Tears of Gold Chapter 4 is. Therefore I'm posting it as a kind of Happy New Year to everyone lol ^^**

**This chapter is quite dark, especially compared to the previous ones but the reason for this is to really show the contrast between Narcissa's life in France and her one in England. And of course, this underlines the differences in Narcissa herself. In France she's happy and natural and how she really is deep down. At home however she has to be someone else, she has to protect herself, and her sanity and therefore we see in this chapter her armour as you might put it, beginning to be put on. Her light is not snuffed out but it does dim when she's back home and exposed to the cruelty of the Black family.**

**Anyway, I hope you like ;)**

**Read, hopefully enjoy and REVIEW!**

**Luv y'all and HAPPY NEW YEAR! =)**

**Lili**

**X x x x x x x x **

* * *

_So small, so swift a moment to change the course of one's entire life. _

_Even now the memory causes a bittersweet smile. That night, that dance, that kiss, it could have been such a promising beginning, only to become a cruel end. Agony and heat burning the tiniest shoots of what perhaps could have become something more, into a shrivelled crisp; a charred, bitter hatred that smoked and curled on Paris's gold-paved floor. _

_How many years were lost in that night. How much pain and resentment would have to be laid to rest before we could return to something resembling that quick, intense rush of mutual attraction. _

_How different things might have been, my heartbeat seems to whisper, its steady thump quickening to a gallop as Lucius' lips glide down my throat, curved and cruel, possessive and yet, despite all his best efforts, unmistakably tender. Two bodies, entwined and enlaced with ribbons of desire and the last residual tendrils of a mutual loathing that will never completely fade. Could it have been otherwise, I wonder silently to the night., eyes fluttering closed as his kisses burn my skin in hellish pleasure. _

_If he had let go of the feverish call for revenge, would we still be here now? Clasped in each other's arms, revelling in the feel of skin and against skin, heart against heart? Would my nails automatically rake down his back and would his teeth sink into my flesh with a cruel hiss of need? Or would we smile secrets with only our eyes, kiss each other's body with reverence rather than jealous possession? Could our love have been pure, untouched, untainted? _

_Lucius' mouth latches on to my breast and my golden head is thrown back in unbearable ecstasy. I feel the delicate flesh bruise and the gasp torn from my throat pulls his lips cruelly upwards. _

_For an instant he savours it, revels in it, taking pleasure in my pain just as he used to, just as I know he always will. _

_Before pressing his lips to the sting and soothing it with the softest, gentlest of kisses._

* * *

Dawn swept over Paris like the brush-stroke from a master painter. Streaks of crimson, ripples of gold, blushes of deepest pink ran and blended into a breathtaking medley of light and colour as the sun lifted its head in a weary yawn. The most magnificent of Hotels to the tiniest of muggle houses gleamed in the morning glow, for once equal in beauty and importance as the white walls sparkled like coloured crystal, and the windows, big and small, dazzled the early risers into lifting their hands to their eyes against the glare.

The warm smells of bread and croissants wafted tantalisingly down the small twisted streets, smoke rose from chimneys, cocks crowed to celebrate the morn and the capital began to slowly bustle with life and exuberance.

All save one elegant Georgian-style room of one elegant Georgian-style Manor.

The shutters were closed, shutting out the light and the day so as not to wake the girl who tossed and turned fitfully between silken sheets. The magnificently carved four-poster bed creaked and protested as the girl's head was thrown from side to side, white fingers gripping the covers painfully tight, white lids screwed tightly shut against the nightmares that tormented her.

The same agony was reflected in the eyes of woman who sat, rigid and motionless by the bed, the perfection of her proud face marred only by the shared suffering. If her limbs ached from the hours of silent watch, one would not have guessed it. Her back was poker-straight, her hands clasped forcefully in her lap, partially hidden by the folds of lilac crepe. The white neck rising smoothly as a swan's from the lace of her dress quivered ever so slightly, the only movement save the tiniest rise and fall of her breast.

The girl let out a soft cry without waking, and Madame's eyes flickered briefly to her deathly pale face. Again the temptation to wake her was overwhelming, to rescue her darling from the terror and the fear, to hold her close so that the tears soaked her bodice and chilled her skin, making her briefly feel like she truly had the power to save her.

But the child had barely slept all night, and purple bruises darkened the skin around her eyes. She would need her strength, and as yet, Madame Amelie de Belle-Isle did not yet have strength herself to face reality.

Soothing had done nothing, the Veela had long given up stroking the hair back from her little one's face. The fever had broken in the early hours of the morning, so she no longer needed to cool the scalding brow with a damp cloth. The servants had all pressured her to try and gain some sleep for herself, offering to stay with Miss Black and come immediately to warn her if the girl's condition in any way changed. Madame merely shook her head without lifting her gaze until they had left in silence.

Instead she cleared her dry throat, swallowing once or twice in an effort to find some lingering saliva. Madame breathed deeply, before, first softer than a baby's sigh, beginning to sing.

The lullaby was hoarse, forced even, but music was a Veela's magic, whether it be dance, song or instrument. The air grasped the faltering notes and helped them on their way, softening the croak, smoothing the soreness, gathering sweetness and strength and emotion. It grew in power too, as Madame's bosom swelled and her eyes flashed, her features taught and severe as the pain was released via song; softened by love, enriched by experience and beautified by the magic in her blood and her soul.

The house seemed to still. It darkened in silent sorrow, feeling its mistress's sadness, sharing her pain. The humans did not understand, they only sensed the overwhelming grief, but the stones and the hangings and the gleaming wood knew what she mourned, for they had felt this heartbreak before, long ago, once upon a memory. It had been more bitter then, mixed with a tearing guilt, but the agony of loss was the same.

Curtains rustled as though the girls still giggled behind their folds. Almost forgotten figures danced and laughed in the antique silver mirrors, three of them, skipping lightly in swirls of silk and mischief. Floorboards creaked as invisible feet tiptoed from the three rooms that hadn't seen the light of day for over twenty years. And still the Veela sang, until the walls trembled, hairs stood on end and the house seemed to shake in a silent, agonising scream.

"Madame!"

The Veela did not see, did not hear, nor feel. Only her lips still moved, still produced the earthly sound, keening and haunting and too too beautiful as the plaster began to crack and paint crumbled and fell from the walls.

"Madame, _je vous en pris! Réveillez vous!"_

The chandelier jangled in the ceiling, spider-lines ran across the glass of the windows, a vase fell from the quivering sideboard and smashed against the tiled floor.

"MADAME, S'IL VOUS PLAIT, ARRETEZ!"

With a gasp the Veela's eyes flew open. Her chest shuddered and was still. The earthquake ceased and Madame turned her head to stare into Narcissa's anguished eyes.

The girl's face was filled with a rare fear, her hand was pressed imploringly against the woman's cheek; she'd obviously been trying to break the trance for some time. She was kneeling on the silken covers, golden curls dishevelled but the expression of terror faded into intense relief as Madame took another deep breath and relaxed in her chair. Then she turned her magnificent head once more, to show a warm reassuring smile to the child who still watched her with such huge, worried eyes.

"Forgive me, _ma cherie_," she breathed tiredly, "I should not have woken you, foolish selfish woman that I am!"

Narcissa immediately shook her head, denying the furious self-accusation and summoning a bright, cheerful smile.

"_Mais non, _Madame. I…" she hesitated before saying reluctantly, "I did not sleep well."

Madame nodded, a curious lump in her smooth throat.

"I know." No need to explain to the child that she had sat in the same spot for the entire night, it would only distress her further.

"Ma petite, there is something I must tell you."

She could not meet the child's gaze, guileless and innocent. But the truth would not wait, not even the pathetic half-truth she was permitted to divulge and although the bitterness stung her eyes and drained her mouth of moisture, the words were there, ready and waiting, meticulously prepared during the hours of silent watch. Now to find the strength…

Narcissa pulled on the soft lace that fringed the sleeves of her nightgown, folding the material back and forth with impatience she desperately tried to stifle. It was unlike Madame to hesitate to speak her mind and the look on her mother-figure's face was cold and taught enough to send a chill of worry down her spine. One hand lifted to twist a lock of golden hair around her finger, a childish habit she had discarded years ago but that nevertheless crept back in times of worry or stress. Finally Madame breathed a deep breath and turned her face to the window.

"You will be leaving for England tonight, by the earliest Portkey."

Narcissa gasped , her pretty mouth falling open in shock.

"_Mais…Madame_!"

The protest was cut of by a sharp white hand, and Madame's lovely face became if anything, more rigid.

"Your father has ordered your early return. You must be packed and ready to leave before nightfall."

"But, why? The wedding is not for another month…Surely…"

Another deep breath, one that almost strangled her as she forced it out and turned to meet the child's gaze, filled as it was with confusion and a hint of fear. Madame ordered her lips to smile and as always the obeyed, but although the smile did it's job in easing some of the tension in the young girl's face, it made the betrayal sting all the more painfully.

"I do not know the details, _ma cherie_," a half-truth that was no better than the lie that was to follow.

"But I'm sure it is nothing to worry about."

Again the warm loving smile that threatened to tear her face in two. Anger seethed and simmered below the surface but it was too late and as though to remind herself of the fact Madame held out her hands. Narcissa placed her own into them immediately and again the Veela had to fight back the urge to transform.

The woman's long tapered fingers held the smaller ones in a loving clasp, folding them together in a silent prayer and closing about them tightly. Then the hand on top made a subtle moment, as though to rub the girl's skin reassuringly but in reality to push up the fringe of lace until in fell back to bare her slim wrist.

There in the half-light, gleamed for all the world to see, a tiny wreath of silver. Madame briefly closed her eyes and gripped tighter before looking back.

The tiny links shone the pale, raw white of barely healed scar-tissue. A miniature chain, invisible to the naked eye unless held up to the light. Or brought to life by the curse that slumbered within. Narcissa noticed the fixedness of the woman's gaze and frowned in something almost like irritation..

"I don't know what he did. Do you think the scars will fade Madame?" she asked worriedly.

"Visible scars always fade, _ma petite_," the words flowed out automatically. And so they did, even if only if death. "I would not worry about them."

Blatant lies, they nevertheless caused such a dazzling smile to break out over the girl's sombre features that the Veela almost forgave herself them.

"Thank You Madame, I will not." Narcissa smiled blithely up at her protectress who nodded abstractly and rose from her seat with not a crease on her face to show for the aching muscles and stiff limbs. She strode to the door, haughty and poised as ever before turning back to the bed with one white hand resting on the frame of the door.

"I shall send Charis and Celine to you. Do not exert yourself _trop, ma 'tite. _We shall see each other later."

With one last smile of love Madame left the child and the room to their stunned, confused silence. Outside the door, she snapped her fingers and issued the orders to the house-elf that appeared immediately at her side. The little creature nodded and waggled its bat-like ears before disapparaeting with a pop to find Miss Charis. Madame turned on her heel in swirl of lilac silk and marched away towards the West Staircase, her mind already dusting off the tarnished keys and slipping into the dark, deserted rooms.

* * *

"Monsieur de LeRoy to see Miss Black."

Narcissa spun round in delighted astonishment as the house-elf vanished and the tall dark-haired figure strolled into the Blue Sitting Room with a flourish.

"Tristan!"

"Mademoiselle Black."

She danced across the room, all thoughts of the sewing-kit she had descended to retrieve forgotten and held out her hand to the young man. He took it at once but to her surprise did not immediately kiss it. Instead he stood there holding it between his two much larger ones for a moment, his handsome face unusually grave. Narcissa frowned and pulled out her most mischievous grin.

"_Mais Tristan_, you look positively cross. Are you not happy to see me?" she teased, searching his face for the usual answering gleam.

It eventually came, though late and rather half-hearted and Narcissa laid her other gloved hand on his arm in the beginnings of concern. Her golden head tilted to the side, eyeing him curiously and the bird-like look finally brought a true grin to his face.

"How are you Miss Black?" he said much more easily. Narcissa gave a theatrical sigh belied by the naughty gleam in those stunning blue eyes.

"Better, I suppose. I have slept no less than fourteen hours and now feel rather like one of the living dead." she twinkled playfully.

To her astonishment the boy barely seemed to hear her teasing answer. Instead her stared into the empty space over her left shoulder, before tugging at the elegant silk cravat around his neck as though it choked him. Tristan seemed to struggle for his words before finally saying

"Will you….would it be prudent of you to perhaps attend the play with me tonight…?"

The question began hesitantly but grew in strength and determination. Narcissa's eyes widened in shock, barely noticing as his hand gripped her own even tighter. She blinked up at him, momentarily at a loss for words.

"With…friends…?" she asked warily. Tristan's deep blue gaze had never been more serious in all the years she'd known him. He never looked away as he shook his handsome head.

"No, Miss Black…Narcissa. Unless you would prefer not." he said softly.

Narcissa could barely breathe; it didn't seem to make sense. Tristan de LeRoy was hinting…that he would seek permission to court her officially? It was like she was in a dream, a strange, unbelievable dream that she would awake from any minute and laugh about in the morning with Charis over breakfast. The drawing room, Tristan, his hand over hers, it all seemed very far away as the image flashed through her mind.

For a brief instant she saw herself in a white dress, her sisters smiling faces, her fathers begrudging pride and most of all Tristan's face glowing with love as he prepared to take her hand and keep it forever. Pureblood damsels envied her good fortune from all sides, staring jealously at the girl lucky enough to fall in love with a young pureblood as well known for his lineage as his wealth.

She never allowed herself to entertain the thought; Tristan was a self-proclaimed playboy. Not once had it ever crossed his mind to court a girl officially; he'd told her more times than she could count. But here he was offering her just that, a future, marriage, wealth and position and a husband of her own age who was undoubtedly fond of her. What more could a girl wish for?

The image of a butterfly flashed through her mind, soaring up towards an endless sky of blue and her fingers twitched of their own accord as the longing to follow her swelled in her chest.

Then suddenly a burn of pain stung her cheek and she pulled back with a gasp.

Tristan's hand was still lifted, a line creasing his brow slightly from where she'd flinched away but the small smile she sent up at him cleared the worry from his face. There were roses in her cheeks and she seemed to avoid his gaze, preferring instead to focus on their clenched hands. It flashed though Tristan's mind that she's never looked more beautiful and before her eyes had time to widen, he was lowering his face to kiss her.

"_Cici, qu'est ce que tu fais, parbleu?" _What on earth are you doing? "_Oh!_"

Charis stopped dead in the doorway as the her best friend and her visitor drew apart. A half-veela did not flush; did not betray embarrassment of any kind, but Charis did bite her lip briefly, wondering whether she should disappear back out of the room with a whirl, but knowing also that time was marching on. The portkey was due to leave in less than an hour.

Narcissa read the hesitation on her best friend's visage and acted for her. She turned back to Tristan with a warm but sad smile, staring earnestly into his face to make him understand that this was not a rejection.

"I'm leaving, Tristan. Tonight." he opened his mouth to speak, a frown already lowering his brows but she cut him off with a reassuring touch on his arm.

"It's nothing serious. The wedding itself is only a month away, the rehearsal in under three weeks and Father probably has decided that my presence during the preparations is necessary after all. I'll be back in just over than a month."

Tristan still looked worried and Narcissa suppressed the impulse to smooth away the creases from his brow. He frowned so rarely that it was odd to see him without his usual sly grin. His proposal had taken her by surprise and he idea of them seriously courting was still new, but… She looked up into his smooth face for once a little shyly, and it brought the typical cocky gleam back into his eyes. Her cheeks flushed and she avoided his gaze determinedly as she said quietly,

"When I return, maybe we could…finish this conversation."

The smile came as swiftly as a beam of like, infectious and mischievous and so dazzlingly bright that Narcissa almost blinked as she lifted her head and met his eyes.

"Narcissa you are heartless. Alone and unanswered for over a month: you will leave me inconsolable."

This was more familiar territory and Narcissa raised a mocking eyebrow at once, her lips quirking as she fought back the wicked little grin.

"Somehow Tristan, I rather doubt that."

He put a theatrical hand to his heart with a look of deepest hurt, but Narcissa merely twinkled naughtily back at him, her golden curls gleaming in the light as she shook her head.

Then Charis' pointed looked over Tristan's shoulder reminded her that time was slipping slowly but surely away and so with a sigh of regret, Narcissa held out her hand for her friend to kiss. He bowed over it dashingly, throwing her a roguish wink as he did so, but the thought flashed none the less through her mind that the movement was not as graceful as it had once seemed to her. For a moment a figure all in black bent before her with a celestial grace, before she blinked and shook her head fiercely to clear it. Foolish girl that she was to be thinking of that prick now.

Oblivious to her inner-battle, Tristan rose and sent her one last devilish smile, and she revelled in the tiniest flutter of butterflies in her tummy.

"Oh, faithless one, you wound me. I shall take this opportunity to prove the seriousness of my intentions." he laughed at the way her eyes widened in shock and then laughing disbelief, and pressed the gloved hand he still held.

"Hurry home Narcissa. We are many who will miss you." he finished a little more softly.

Then he turned and strode to the door, pausing only to bow briefly to Charis and throw one last blinding smile at Narcissa, that made her blink just a little dazedly.

"Farewell Miss Black. And stay away from mysterious strangers. The role of your knight in shining armour is not one I am willing to share."

He winked. She blushed. Then he disappeared into the hallway and out of sight, his voice echoing to Narcissa's ears as he called for his hat and cloak before finally the front door slammed.

Narcissa was silent for a moment, silent and motionless until finally she lifted her head and glanced towards the half-Veela, now standing with her pretty mouth hanging open in shock. The look was too priceless and Narcissa's peal of irrepressible laughter pulled Charis out of her stunned daze.

The taller girl marched across the room with her nose lifted haughtily in the air, but the excitement quickly overcame the mild pique and a moment later she was clasping Narcissa in her arms with a huge smile of disbelief.

"Cici! I'm so happy for you! Narcissa de LeRoy! You snagged the most eligible bachelor in the school, not to mention the most LUSCIOUS!"

"Charis, we're not even courting yet!" Narcissa protested, torn between laughter and exasperation. The half-veela charged on as though she hadn't even heard it.

"I'll be Godmother, don't forget! And you'll be my son's and then he'll fall in love with your daughter, and then they'll marry and we'll have Grandchildren TOGETHER and…"

Then an almost manic light came into her eyes and she clapped her hands and threw back her handsome head in wicked laughter, as Narcissa looked on, confusion stealing into her face that was still lit up in amusement at her friend's enthusiastic plans for her future.

"And…?" she prompted, her voice shaking as she tried not to break into helpless giggles.

Charis glanced at her, her perfect features stretching into an absurdly wolfish grin.

"And I can't WAIT to tell De Richelieu!"

* * *

An hour later, the laughter had faded and the people clustered in the informal salon were strangely quiet and subdued. An enormous quantity of baggage was piled up amidst the elegant chaise-lounges and gilded glass coffee-tables. Four trunks, several band-boxes and close to thirty shoe-boxes formed a towering heap in the centre of the tastefully furbished room, waiting to be transported by house-elf to Black Manor.

Narcissa had been surprised at the vast quantity of baggage her preceptress had deemed necessary for the trip; she would return in just over a month after all. Did she really need to take her entire wardrobe for such a relatively brief visit? But Madame had merely said that Father had insisted. The parties and soirées both preceding and following the wedding itself would be innumerable, and Cygnus Black, pinch-penny that he was when it came to his daughters, had no intention of purchasing a second wardrobe for Narcissa's summer stays.

Narcissa herself was standing next to the tower of luggage, dressed for England's rather greyer weather in a rich fur-lined cloak and the finest of leather gloves. The dark blue travelling robes were smartly but severely cut, tightly buttoned up to the throat and round her wrists. A little hat completed the ensemble, of a matching indigo that brought her gold curls to life like sunshine on water. Her little face was pale and perfect as a doll's, her eyes the same deep colour as the cloth on her body and they sparkled like jewels as she tried desperately to erase the distinctly depressed look on Charis' flawless face.

"Smile for me my love, please! You do not wish me to remember you with a sulk!" she teased.

Charis, resplendent in rose silk, sighed and tapped her fingers impatiently on the curved scroll arms of the chair she was seated in, but did not answer. Madame turned her head however and, after a moment turned away from the window that looked out onto the street and came to clasp her little one in a tight hold. Narcissa returned the embrace enthusiastically, burying her face into Madame's smooth shoulder and filling her nose with that rich, musky scent as though to hold on to it forever.

Madame's white hand came to stroke the girl's head lovingly, her lids closed in silent thought. Before finally drawing gently away. She held Narcissa's shoulders lightly, smiling down into the piquant little face with affection but the sadness that lurked in the back of the Veela's eyes could not be fully vanquished. Narcissa laughed a little confusedly, trying to lighten the strangely heavy atmosphere.

"We are silly, _non_? To make so much of me leaving when it is the same every year."

Madame laughed her rich husky laugh but when her head lowered once more the sigh escaped despite herself.

"However brief the parting _ma petite, _I will miss you none the less." she smiled, lifting her hand stroke the fifteen-year-old's cheek.

Narcissa smiled impishly back, innocent and glowing and for a moment Madame almost wanted to tell the child the truth and never let her go. Her fingers quivered ever so slightly on the smooth peachy skin, unwilling to leave, unwilling to let go. Not again, her heart cried silently, please, not again.

But the pain was shelved before the haughty, flawless façade could crack and Madame simply smiled majestically down at her protégé, breathing deeply and forcing her lips to part.

"Be well, _ma chérie. _Do not let the darkness in that house smother your light."

Narcissa nodded, her face still radiant and unsuspecting.

"As always Madame. It is only for a month."

The Veela feasted her eyes on the girl's face. The chime of the cloak on the marble mantelpiece told her that the elves would be here any moment but she ignored it, stroking the girl's cheek tenderly for just a little while longer, staring down but seeing a faintly different face to the one that was there.

"You are…much like your mother." Madame's gaze became misty. "When you smile, and wilfully set your chin , _just so_…I see her again. My Ella. You have her strength, _mon ange. _Her spirit, her charm and her stubborn pride. May it serve you well."

Narcissa couldn't speak for the curious lump in her throat. Her mother was a forbidden subject at home at least with her Father. To hear the love in Madame's voice for her childhood friend, to receive some of that same love; it almost brought tears that hadn't fallen for two years. Narcissa threw herself into Madame's arms and only the loud "crack" of her Father's attendants arriving made them draw apart.

The five house-elves bowed respectfully to first Madame de Belle-Isle and then Narcissa, each of attired in matching white tea-towels embroided with the golden Black Crest.. One of them stepped forward and squeaked

"If Mistress permits, we will convey Mistresses baggage to the Manor and then return with the portkey for Mistress herself."

"That will be fine Totty," Narcissa nodded to the Head Elf with a small smile, "That gives me a little longer to say my farewells."

Totty bowed once more, so low that his bat-like ears waggled and brushed the pale carpet. Then he snapped his fingers to the other elves and they immediately began to take hold of the parcels and disappear with a bang before reappearing a moment later and repeating the procedure.

Madame held Narcissa's face in her hands one final time, her deep, dark eyes glowing with such emotion Narcissa against all logic, felt something in her chest seem to mourn as well.

"Always remember, _mon coeur_, you may always come to me." the Veela whispered finally,

«And in this place, you will always have a home."

Narcissa nodded dumbly, the lump in her throat almost choking her. But time was ticking away and so she turned away, looking instead towards the person she would miss most during the long weeks at Black Manor, her heart clenching in her chest and her throat dry as a bone.

"I'll need you to look after Tristan while I'm gone." she tried for a smile, "Don't let Aurélie anywhere near him."

Charis rose out of her chair with all the grace she was named for, crossing the room in one swift motion before clasping the other girl tightly in her arms. Narcissa returned the embrace fiercely, smelling the familiar sweet perfume she brought her for Charis' fourteenth birthday, and feeling the comforting beat of their hearts in time.

"I wish you didn't have to go Cici." she murmured into Narcissa' hair and Narcissa squeezed her even tighter in response.

"I'll be back before you notice I'm gone." she whispered back. They drew apart and Charis stared down at her friend as though trying to engrave the image into her memory, her feature creased into a worried frown.

"My head knows this, but my heart…Ahhh I am foolish Cici, but I cannot help but feel that I will not see you again for a very long time."

Narcissa grinned her most impish grin, ignoring the tiny chill of foreboding at the words. Charis was not a seer, the idea was preposterous, but she did possess a natural instinct that had been proven right too many times to be counted as mere coincidence. If Charis thought… Narcissa shook her head determinedly. She would not think such things; it served nothing. The wedding polite society had been waiting for for almost three years would finally take place and she, Narcissa, would be back here in France where belonged before a month and a half was up. Not even Father could prevent her from completing her education.

A polite cough at her feet made Narcissa drop her hands and her head, to smile down at the creature.

"If Mistress if ready."

The trunks and boxes had all vanished. Totty was waiting expectantly with an worn leather glove in his knobbly fingers and with one last kiss for Madame and Charis, Narcissa stepped forward and took it in her own gloved hands. The magic worked immediately. Narcissa felt the familiar, uncomfortable tug somewhere under her navel and suddenly the room swirled and blurred around her like a giant whirlwind. Fighting the nausea and sensation of falling through a sandstorm, Narcissa gritted her teeth and waited for the final lurch.

The world stopped spinning with a jolt. Narcissa felt her feet hit solid wood and she fiercely dug her heels in a furious attempt to stay upright as the room righted itself at last. A deep breath before finally her golden head lifted and she cast her now carefully blank gaze around the horribly familiar space.

The hall was dark and forbidding as it had been when she'd left almost a year ago. The dusty vaulted ceiling, the candles and the flickering orange glow they cast; it was all so terribly familiar. The vast main staircase rose like a Basilisk before her, curved and rolling and stained dark amber. What little light there was forced it's way in through the drawn curtains that obscured the huge bay windows like mourning drapes. The suits of armour stood like silent accusers, the portraits watched her sternly and contemptuously from their gilded frames.

Narcissa repressed the shudder and drew herself up to her full, admittedly not very impressive height, her chin arching as proudly as a queens. This was her house, her heritage, her glory. Narcissa set her shoulders in challenge and waited.

The silent battle raged. The girl's eyes flashed like polished sapphires, her posture inimitable, her pride equal to the woman's she resembled so closely as she stared coldly and fiercely straight ahead into nothing and still she waited.

Finally, reluctantly, Black Manor bowed down in welcome to it's youngest Mistress.

* * *

The sound of a door shutting softly to her left made Narcissa turn her head, repressing the urge to flinch away from the tall, powerfully built woman who had just glided through it. Pureblood ladies were taught from birth to make no noise as they moved; even this woman's size eight feet made not a sound under the full floor-length skirt that seemed to float like a ghost towards the slightly built girl, the contrast between them almost shocking.

The lady's face was handsome despite the years that numbered more than forty, but only from a distance. Up close the expression could be seen to be too harsh, the line of her features too sharp and the curve of her lips nothing short of cruel. They sneered almost by habit, her nose was thin and straight and contemptuous but it was the eyes that had rendered Narcissa paralysed with fear since as long as she could remember. Sharp and black and vicious, they flashed like Bella's did when she was angry, as though the woman hated everything and everyone she laid eyes upon, including her own family.

Narcissa gathered her skirt, bowed her head and dropped into a flawless curtsey.

"Aunt Walburga." she murmured respectfully.

Mistress Walburga Black drew back her thin lips and snarled in answer. Before Narcissa could do more than cry out the woman's bony fingers entangled themselves in her hair and with merciless strength dragged the girl towards the doorway through which she had entered.

"You filthy little bitch!" she hissed in Narcissa's ear, "You knew didn't you! You were in on it all along!"

Narcissa couldn't find enough breath to reply. Her hair felt like it was being wrenched from her head. She could feel the strands tearing at the roots under her Aunts merciless grip and stars of shock and pain seemed to spin before her eyes.

The door was flung open with a crack of the wand and the deranged woman dragged her niece into the smaller Blue Salon before throwing her brutally to the ground. Trying desperately to collect her thoughts Narcissa blinked up at her blindly, her small hand lifting automatically to where her head still throbbed, her lips open in shock as she gasped for breath.

"What did she tell you?" the hag screeched "Where has she gone?"

"I don't…"

SLAP!

The force of the blow snapped Narcissa's head back so hard that her neck cricked. The soundless cry escaped from her lips. A drop of blood slipped down her cheek and into her mouth from where the woman's ring had split the skin like butter. Momentarily stunned Narcissa didn't even register that her aunt was still screaming, still the same words that meant nothing to her…

"Where has she gone? Where is she hiding? Speak you little rat!"

It seemed her Aunt had completely lost her whatever sanity she had had. Narcissa stared up at her in bewilderment and fear, unable to look away from the drool escaping from the corner of the hag's screaming mouth, the bulge of her eyes, the claw-like nails of the hand that was swinging once again towards her…

SLAP! And again. SLAP!

Narcissa fell back against the Persian rug, both cheeks now smarting, her brain buzzing as it tried unsuccessfully to process the words.

"We are all RUINED!" her aunt was screeching "RUINED because of that whore! That defiled, treacherous little slut!"

The woman's wand was suddenly out and pointed towards her and Narcissa instinctively braced herself for the pain that invariably followed. But not so soon, the thought flashed through mind. Usually the crucio's would wait a day or so…

The wand drew back, Narcissa's lids fluttered shut when a sudden CRACK made them spring open in surprise to her Aunt lowering her wand with a look of extreme displeasure.

"What is it?" she barked to the quavering house-elf that had just apparated into the salon.

"The Master," the creature swallowed in terror, "The Ma…Master has asked to see Miss Black in his study. His guest insisted…"

Walburga's eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets at the mention of this unknown stranger and Narcissa looked from the petrified Totty to her aunt in curiosity. The woman seemed to fight to steady her breath, chest heaving up and down like a pair of bellows before finally the madness seemed to recede and Narcissa breathed an inward sigh of relief. Walburga snarled in frustration but finally snapped at the elf

"Very well. Tell my brother we will be there immediately."

The elf disappeared and Narcissa swallowed as her aunt revolved slowly on the spot to glare down at her with an expression of deepest revulsion.

"Get up!" she hissed sharply, "Get up and undo your robes, now!"

"But…"

"NOW!"

The wand lifted menacingly and Narcissa hastened to obey, her fingers trembling so hard that they fumbled over the tiny buttons, so that the raging banshee snarled with impatience.

"Hurry up you little bitch! It you're not pure,…"

She didn't continue, slashing the air with her wand so that the exposed undergarments ripped neatly in to. Narcissa cried out in shock and covered her body, anger and confusion battling for dominance as her Aunt marched closer and threw her hands away. Narcissa swallowed in shame as the woman looked her up and down as one might examine a brood mare. The hag snorted in obvious disparagement before suddenly pointing her wand at the girl's lower abdomen and snarling

_"Virgo Revello_."

Narcissa screamed. The pain was white-hot and seemed to burn her from her very core. Instinctively her hands lifted to clutch at the exposed skin but Walburga slapped them away pitilessly, her flashing black eyes completely focused on the wand that was still pointed at the girl's most private parts.

The seconds ticked by like hours, as the pain and humiliation left Narcissa dizzy, choking her like a noose around her neck until suddenly a burst of pure white light exploded from the wand like sunlight through the clouds. Aunt Walburga heaved a sigh of relief and lowered her hand.

"Thank Merlin; you're not such a whore as the other two! We may yet survive."

The woman turned away and closed her eyes in thanks to the heavens, all thought of her niece forgotten. The slim figure lay fragile and quivering on the ground still, trembling from the lingering pain and forcing down the bile that filled her cream throat. Fighting the waves of dizziness Narcissa pulled herself upright, staring up at her aunt in painful confusion yet unable to speak a word.

Then the terrible woman spun forcefully round, marching towards the girl and yanking her to her feet with a growl.

"Move it. Your Father is expecting you, you little hussy and if he finds out you helped her….I swear to Merlin there will be hell to pay! Get dressed! You're already late."

Narcissa's eyes sparkled militantly at the outrageous insinuation that it was her fault her father had been kept waiting, but long experience of her aunt's madness made her bite her tongue and swallow the fierce retort. The vile old hag hissed and tossed her head back and forth in impatience but Narcissa deliberately took her time fastening the innumerable gold buttons that closed the robes from her ankle to her throat. She stared at her hands to hide the surge of hatred she felt for the evil bitch, watching the white fingers shake with a mixture of both fury and gut-wrenching fear. And all the while her mind whirled like a sandstorm, as her aunt words echoed in her head again and again and she tried to make sense of them. Something had happened, that much was sure; something terrible, but what? Again the panic reared it's ugly head; Andy? Bella? Were they alright? Not so much a whore as the other's, her aunt had said. What could that mean? Andy was engaged, to be married in under a month, and Bella…

Narcissa flushed slightly. Bella at least could not be called pure but to call a member of the House of Black defiled, it was unthinkable no matter how promiscuous. Bella's name would replace her rather tainted virtue, her pure-blood lineage, her family's endless wealth and spotless reputation were enough to render her one of the most eligible young ladies in the country regardless of her sullied innocence. So why this sudden…madness was the only word she could call it.

Narcissa finished the final button and, with a deep breath, lifted her head to meet her aunt's wild gaze.

The older woman snarled, drawing her lips back into a sneer before grabbing Narcissa's wrist and dragging her with merciless strength back out of the towards, across the hall, up the West staircase before finally coming to a raging halt outside the familiar forbidding ebony door.

The words "Cygnus Pollux Black" gleamed in gold copperplate script in the very centre of the ornately carved snakes that curled and slithered and hissed in menace, and Narcissa felt the familiar terror clawing up her throat as the sight brought back a thousand memories, all of which she yearned and prayed to forget.

* * *

For a moment Narcissa stood paralysed before the entrance, a silent scream locked in her throat, her imagination instinctively relieving the agony of her father's wand wracking her entire body. Her limps seemed to freeze, as her whole being cried out silently for her not to enter the door, not to go in and submit to the torture, not to inflict it on the few people she truly loved.

But Walburga's huge hand slammed onto the ebony like a drum, startling her out of her panic attack and before she knew the woman had thrown open the door and thrust her unceremoniously through it.

Narcissa almost cried out, but by the time she had recovered from the shock the door had already slammed behind her. All she could do was turn to face the scene from her nightmares and so, squaring her shoulders and lifting her little chin, Narcissa revolved slowly on the spot.

The room was as dark and oppressive as in her flashes of memory. The desk was huge and black, framed by three massive windows, all of them covered in heavy emerald drapes as though to block out the light as fully as possible. What little light there was, was given by the tall candle that sat in it's ornate silver holder to the very left of the desk. Other smaller candles lined the silver and green patterned wallpaper dotted between the thin ebony panelling. A matching ebony chest of drawers and a huge black dresser stood one on each side of the room, beside identical viewing cabinets where the family's most treasured heirlooms were jealously guarded. But the girl did not even spare the décor a glance; it was to her Father than Narcissa's gaze was incredibly drawn, two sparkling lights of both pride and an almost overwhelming fear.

She dropped into a deeply respectful curtsey, muttering to the floor

"Father."

The man in question sat behind the desk like a statue carved from the same wood surrounding him. The candlelight cast an orange glow to his harsh features, rendering them, crueller and even more frightening than she remembered. His black hair gleamed like bloody onyx, his face oddly haggard and gaunt as he stared at his youngest daughter with, for the first time in Narcissa's memory, something approaching his sister's madness. He stared as though he did not really see her, his fists clenching and spasming on the desk and when the man lounging casually nearby moved, Cygnus Black flinched away as though his guest would strike him.

Narcissa finally tore away from the haunted look in her father's eyes to look warily at the stranger. At first glance something in his pale features rang a cord of memory within her but the impression of déjà vu didn't not linger for. She did not recognise him though, growing up as she had in France and away from English society, this was not to wondered at. Andy or Bella might have recognised him immediately, for memorable he certainly was.

He was far from young but still tall and powerful, with lean yet prominent muscles evident in his forearms and through the folds of his black trousers. His face was proud, pale and undeniably handsome; Narcissa had to repress a blink. But the beautifully carved features were as still and rigid as marble, the faint smirk sat frozen on his lips as he too stared at the tiny blonde with a look she couldn't decipher.

The man moved suddenly, gliding forward with a nonchalance that was almost insulting and as he passed closer to the candle, the long strands that covered his head gleamed like white gold. Everything about him screamed danger, deadly danger wrapped up in silk and as he came closer Narcissa fought the urge to back away, to put as much distance as possible between herself and this frightening man.

When he finally halted mere feet in front of her, Narcissa summoned up the courage to look him straight in the eye. Two pools of silver glinted so ferociously that her lips parted in a silent gasp. Beneath the serene façade this man was…terrifyingly enraged.

"Look at me, girl." he finally said, his voice smooth as silk yet sharp enough to cut the silence and make both the child and her father wince.

"Sir." she swallowed and dropped another curtsey, her grace unimpaired by her fear, forcing her gaze to remain fixed on the gentleman's.

His face remained tranquil as a infant's; only the faint curl of his lip could have been any kind of warning of what was to come. Before Narcissa had to blink, the man's hand shot upwards and he asked soft as a sigh

"Did you know?"

Narcissa could only stare at him in bewilderment, her eyes pleading with him to believe her.

"I…I have no idea what you're talking about." she glanced imploringly at her father, but Cygnus Black remained as silent and detached as ghost, he simply stared at her with that empty, burning gaze that chilled her to the core. She returned her gaze to the pale man who was now eyeing her with that faint smirk still curving his mouth. He blinked, just the once before suddenly saying

_"Crucio_."

The pain was as swift and agonising as it was unexpected. Narcissa crumbled to the ground like a flower slashed at the roots. The screams echoed round the room and through her head. Her mind told her they were hers, the awful sound was coming from her lips but in the grip of the curse it all seemed so far away. All she could feel was the white-hot agony, burning her inside and out, a thousand knives tearing at her skin and her soul, as she rolled on the ground and screamed until her lungs bled.

Then suddenly it stopped. Through a haze of pain and heavy lidded eyes she stared groggily up at the man who still stood so nonchalantly in that same spot, his wand held lightly between long fingers, his air faintly impatient as though waiting for her to hurry up and compose herself.

With swallow and an inward moan she pulled herself almost drunkenly to her feet, her torso slightly bent over and her arms wrapped tightly round her body. At still the man watched her with faint interest, as though appraising her silently and as yet reserving judgment. His nonchalance brought forth a surge of bitter anger and using it to give her strength, Narcissa forced her head to lift, her jaw to clench and she glared coldly up at her torturer with every ounce of Black pride she possessed. The man openly smirked.

"I will ask you again." he said pleasantly, "Were you forewarned in anyway, shape or form?"

Narcissa grit her teeth and bit out

"I do not know of what I am supposed to have been forewarned. Therefore my answer must be no, sir."

"We shall find out. Cygnus?" he asked without turning his silver head. Narcissa looked towards her father in helpless appeal but the dark haired man simply shuddered slightly and nodded his head.

"Do it." hoarse, parched like man craving water in his dying moments. Narcissa turned back to the silver-haired stranger and awaited her fate.

His steel gaze with her blue; his wand lifted once more and Narcissa fought the urge to screw her eyes tight shut in terror. Those empty pools of grey would not allow it; they burned and blistered in icy rage as the man whispered ever so softly

_"Legimens."_

_Flash_

_"Ah la la Cici, save your smiles and your charms for Tristan." Charis' smile dazzled like sunbeams on water. A thousand flash of colour twirling round like autumn leaves. The chandelier, glittering above."_

_Flash_

_"Pas ce soir, mes petites." Not tonight. "One day you will know, I promise, but for now, enjoy the dream." _

_Flash_

_"Please. Don't make me." Tears pouring silently down her cheeks, hot and scaling on ice-cold skin. The wand trembling in her fingers. Bella's face, set and fierce. "Do it, Cissy." Her father's face, dark and pitiless. Huge black eyes, filled with so much hurt and fire. Before they closed. The wand lifted. "Crucio." she whispered._

_Bella's scream shattered every window._

_Flash_

_Andy's letter, the formal invitation edged in gold leaf and tear-stains. Her own shock, concern, bewilderment. Her sister's expectation of those very emotions. "Do not worry about me Cissy. I will be fine."_

_Flash_

"_A chain to hold,…"golden light glowed around the wrists that he still held and all at once the pain from his grip was ten times more, excruciating, unbearable, making her scream silently as he continued_

_"…And a kiss to seal."_

_Flash_

_A surge of satisfaction, cruel and sadistic and a deadly voice lilting in her mind. "Did you know?". He had taken her by surprise, now instinct was compelling her to fight back, to push him out, to regain control but her mother's words stopped her._

_"A weapon is most deadly when it is unexpected. Keep this between us my darlings."_

_Narcissa allowed herself to concentrate only on her overwhelming confusion, her shock her incomprehension and the intruder sifted through the emotions as though weighing up each and every one. Then, finally, the invasion subsided and the stranger, Mister Malfoy as he had finally revealed, released his hold and retreated from her mind with one last smirk._

Narcissa blinked as though wakening from sleep. The wooden floorboards were hard and unforgiving beneath her and as the world began to make sense again, she realised she was lying crumpled on the floor in an untidy heap.

Mister Abraxus Nero Malfoy stood tall and daunting, and she swallowed she mentally linked the cruel face to the name that still resounded in her head and that at last she recognised.

The man promised to her eldest sister stared down at her almost with interest, before turning on his heel and striding smoothly back to lean against the huge desk, very much at his ease.

"It would appear, Cygnus, that she is indeed both innocent and ignorant."

Despite her position on the ground and the numbing fatigue in her limbs, Narcissa's eyes flashed in swift anger. The man Malfoy smirked wider still. Cygnus Black did not answer his guest; he still stared gaunt and hollow at the figure of his daughter, gasping for breath at the foot of the raised dais.

"Get up," he said without any warmth of feeling. "The future Mrs Malfoy will not be a snivelling heap on the floor."

The words did not immediately sink in. Narcissa was completely still, as they turned over and over in her brain before suddenly her head lifted in dreadful, impossible compression and she stared horrified from one man to the other.

"But…that's impossible! Andy…!"

"DO NOT MENTION THAT SLUT'S NAME!" Cygnus roared. Narcissa shrank back before wrenching herself to her feet with as much dignity she could muster, her eyes huge and round and fixed on her father's face, her pretty face creased in complete loss.

"I don't understand!" she repeated desperately. Cygnus Black rose from his chair with a face like thunder.

"SHE IS DEAD TO ME! SHE HAS RUN AWAY WITH A MUDBLOOD! A FILTHY LOWLIFE MUDBLOOD! ABANDONING THIS FAMILY! SULLIYING THIS NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK BY JOINING WITH THIS…SCUM!"

Narcissa could only stare, frozen as one stunned as her father's bellows battered and blasted their way into her consciousness. Her entire being rebelled, silent screams of denial sticking in her throat as suddenly the enormity of what Andy had done gradually began to weigh her down like a tonne of lead.

They were ruined.

Utterly and completely. In one blow Andy had cast her family out of pureblood society forever. A sin of this magnitude would never be forgiven. Not now, not ever. The Black had lost everything.

Suddenly she found the strength to lift her head, her face a picture of complete shock, only to find the jilted bridegroom watching her with barely concealed pleasure.

"The contract is broken!" her father's broken voice made her turn her head blindly. "The price for such an…atrocity is…"

"Twenty-five times the original settlements promised." Abraxus Malfoy finished, soft and almost apologetic.

Narcissa almost swooned.

The settlements Mister Malfoy had bestowed upon his brides family were the second largest in pureblood history. Only the famous Dorea Persephone Black had been sold off for more. One hundred thousand galleons. The sum of money had been…incalculable for Narcissa's young mind.

The Malfoy's were the single wealthiest pre-blood family in Britain. Only their bloodline was infinitesimally lower than her own. The Malfoy's were not one of the "Select Seven". The Black's however were among this practically royal quintet, sharing the honour with the Potters, the Lestranges, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Prewetts and the Gaunts. Even with all their billions, Malfoy blood would never quite compare. They were the close second, along with the Crouchs, the Mckinnons, the Crabbes, the Macmillans, the Bones', the Parkinsons, the Abbot's and the Vances, who in turn were infinitely above a hundred other families who could only prove their blood-purity going back less than eight generations.

It had seemed the perfect alliance, so perfect that the thirty years separating the bride and groom were nothing compared to the meeting of bloodlines and indescribable wealth. But now to pay those settlements back twenty-five fold. Narcissa's mind could only boggle. Even the Black fortune could never hope to pay it. In one single blow the estate would be wiped out, as swiftly and completely as words on a blackboard.

Andy had destroyed them all.

"But Abraxus'….generosity has persuaded him to forgo this payment." her father's words were empty as the grave, and on the contrary they did not give her hope but rather filled her chest with sudden dread.

"No…" she whispered, but Cygnus Black carried on without hearing her.

"In return for a replacement bride"

Narcissa felt her chest clench like a knife had been thrust into her breast. Words did not seem to want to come. She gazed up at the pitiless figure helplessly, pleading, begging him to listen

"Father, please! You can't do this! I can't! There's…someone else, pureblood and…and wealthy! Speak with him at least, I beg of you!"

"SILENCE!"

Narcissa choked on a gasp but obediently fell silent, her lips trembling and her eyes wide and desperate.

"You shame me!" he snarled furiously, "How blessed am I with my daughters; one blood traitor, one HARLOT!" he struggled to regain his composure.

Narcissa swallowed suddenly paralysed with fear for the punishment her sister must have undergone when the spell had declared her defiled and impure. It would have flashed red, red as the blood that would have dripped down Bella's chin only moment's later. Love and worry threatened to choke, as she wondered where Bella was now, how soon could she go to her…

"And you daring to insult the man who has promised us our only hope for salvation."

Narcissa remained silent, refusing to allow her mind to accept it, praying silently that it wasn't true.

"You will be married to Master Lucius Abraxus Malfoy on your eighteenth birthday."

"Master…?" she turned in confusion to the pale man now waving playing with an ornamental quizzing glass in his lean fingers. He smirked down at her, soft and deadly as a lethifold and Narcissa had to force herself not to cringe away.

"Yes, you will be married to my son. I would not touch the sister of such a whore, yet my son seems to feel that you are young enough yet to be moulded into something approaching desirable."

Narcissa's cheeks flushed and before she could stop herself, she had thrown back fiercely

"I'm much obliged to him."

All too late she recalled where she was and to whom she was speaking and sure enough her father's venomously crucio wracked her body with agony before she had time to even blink.

How long it went on Narcissa couldn't be sure. All she knew as that when her father finally lifted his wand, her throat was hoarse from screaming. And still Abraxus Malfoy smirked, eyeing her complacently as though enjoying her defiance as one might enjoy a comic play.

He carried on unruffled as though there had been no interruption, watching ignoring her painful rising to her feet and speaking instead to the ceiling almost whimsically.

"Of course I would not permit him to take such a risk without…insurance."

Narcissa bit her tongue so hard the blood ran bitter in her mouth but she kept her lips firmly closed, so that only the silent flash of her eyes hinted at the inward fury. Abraxus smirk turned pure evil.

"Insurance in the form of…a rather more binding contract." he continued smoothly, now examining his beautifully manicured fingertips. Something in the words made her glance at her father in one last hopeless appeal but Cygnus Black had closed his heavy lids and now stood like a rigid statue, as though silently waiting for the blow to fall. Narcissa turned back to her soon-to-be father-in-law and breathed quietly

"What…contract?"

Abraxus lifted his silver head and with a snap of his fingers drew from thin air a golden scroll.

"This contract. A contract of complete and lifelong obedience, loyalty and submission to her fiancé and soon-to-be husband." he paused, maliciously enjoying the numb look of horror that convulsed the girl's pretty features, before finishing with lilting triumph.

"An Unbreakable Vow."

The gasp escaped, catching her throat and rendering speech impossible at it slowly strangled her. No. No! NO!

"No…!" she finally choked out. "I won't! You can't make me!"

"You already have."

And with that the man rolled down the scroll and held it forward with a laugh dancing on his lips, so that the indented seal of ruby wax glinted in the light and the three signatures stood out in bold print from the vellum declaring to the world that she was little more than a slave. Groom: Lucius Abraxus Malfoy. Guardian and Representative of the Bride: Cygnus Pollux Black. Witness and Bonder of this Vow: Abraxus Nero Malfoy.

Narcissa looked up at the man she called father, as the last vestiges of hope drained like blood from her stricken face. He would not look at her, would not meet her eye and numbly her brain realised that he simply could not. He had sold her to the Malfoy not as a wife, not even as a human being.

"And now, my dear future daughter-in-law, there remains only to inform that you will naturally not be returning to France for the rest of your education. The details concerning your transfer to Hogwarts have already been taken care of and you may safely expect a letter of acceptance and welcome from the Headmaster sometime in the next four weeks."

"Not…returning to France? But…Madame…"

"Has already been informed of your engagement and the termination of her semi-guardianship." Abraxus cut off shortly.

Somewhere in her brain it registered that for the first time since the meeting had begun, a hint of…something, irritation perhaps, or maybe dislike, had crept into Mister Malfoy's voice. But it was too much to take in. Too devastating to accept as reality.

Narcissa stared like an inferi at the empty space in front of her, her face as pale as a sheet, her eyes completely dead.

"My son regrets that he may not spare the time to meet your acquaintance before the beginning of term but wishes me to pass on his compliments and his looking forward to your meeting on the first of September. If I were you Miss Black…" the man paused, the smirk back in full force.

"I would not disappoint him."

Narcissa swallowed the tiniest burst of anger and forced her features to remain as expressionless as stone. Abraxus smiled in even deeper delight.

"And now Cygnus, if we let the child rest? She must be tired and it has been an…eventful day for her after all. You and your…sister must have catching up to do."

Cygnus Black nodded blankly, his face as cold and impassive as his daughters as he said without any feeling at all

"Leave us."

As though in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, Narcissa obeyed

* * *

She was sitting on the window seat, just as Narcissa knew she would be. Framed by the black velvet of the sky and a scattering of stars, her smoothly curved limbs were pulled tight around her rigid body, so still it was unnatural, so tense the air seemed to pulsate around her.

The thick ebony curls fell around her face in ragged, untamed abundance, obscuring it from a chance intruder's eyes. The honey skin was almost blue in the moonlight, the thin cotton nightdress all but transparent. She was cut off from the word, as untouchable as the stars and Narcissa halted in the doorway, desperate and all but breaking apart but not daring to pull her sister from the sanctuary of her secret thoughts.

She tried so hard to hold it in, but the dry sob escaped before she could stifle it with her hand. The way it trembled, she would have had little chance of succeeding anyway. The sound dashed across the room, through the open widow and to freedom before she could snatch it back and just as Narcissa had feared, it caused the girl to shudder, just the once, and finally, slowly, turn her head.

In that moment, staring into her sister's eyes, Narcissa felt she was looking straight into Hell.

She longed to run, to scream, to cry. Death was in her sister's beautiful face, death and murder and such hatred that Narcissa actually cringed back a pace in fear. Misery overwhelmed her. Suddenly she had never felt so alone in her life as she did now, staring at this stranger.

All at once she wanted Andy, the strong one, the one they depended on to pull them through the darkness and find even the smallest beam of sunlight within it. She wanted Madame to hold her close and tut at her foolishness. She longed for Charis and her confident laugh to drag her out of reach of her demons. Tristan, Eugenie, Marguerite, Antoine, Selene, Annette…She longed for them with all her being to come and save her from his nightmare. But most of all she needed Bella to come back, to wake up and hold her as Andy would have once done. As she would never hold her again.

For three years Narcissa had not cried. Not one single tear. They did not fall now. Instead her huge blue eyes simply begged silently for help, for reassurance and most of all for love. And somehow, they found something in the other girl's soul, some remnant of feeling, and dragged it to the surface.

Those heavy lids blinked once, twice and then relaxed. Those twisting fires of black black madness stilled and gradually, painfully died out. Humanity returned, pulled back from the brink by the younger child's need and a fierce determination that An…SHE…would not be missed. They did NOT need her! Not that treacherous bitch! They would survive without her! Just the two of them. The only Black sisters remaining.

The darker girl exhaled heavily before lifting her gaze now filled with sadness and compassion, and held out her arms. Narcissa let out a whimper of relief and ran into them with a muttered choke of

"Bella!"

The word was a soft, broken sob. Bellatrix Black closed her arms tightly around the now single most important being in her life and rested her square chin on the top of those shining golden curls.

"I'm here."

Above the child's head, her jaw clenched. The black fires reignited, only they burned slower now, like smouldering embers.

"I'll always be here."

* * *

Abraxus Malfoy strolled into the Green informal salon and threw his hat, his gloves and his cloak into the hands of the waiting elves with a completely satisfied smirk. He proceeded to the huge, gilded mirror that hung gleaming gold over the elegant Georgian dresser and tidied the folds of his cravat, his steel grey eyes fixing on the reflection of the only other occupant of the room.

The youth lounged very much at ease across the velvet upholstered canope, his long and leanly muscled legs half-bent in the air, one white hand trailing towards the floor, the other holding with considerable fineness a rather shabby book. He seemed oblivious to the older man's scrutiny from the mirror; he did not turn his head, so that only his distinctly handsome profile was visible. Instead he seemed to be waiting for the man to speak first which, after a small pause, he did.

"I met her. " he smirked casually. Without lifting his gaze from the page in front of him, the youth replied just as nonchalantly.

"And? "

Abraxus made a show of shaking out his ruffles before eyeing the achieved effect with feigned pensiveness. Then he lifted his gaze once more to the mirror, silver head tilted slightly to the side, his lined face creased a little in amusement.

"A flower barely unfurling it's petals. The image of her mother. " the smirk turned crueller, until it resembled more closely a sneer, an ugly mixture of mockery and contempt. "Pretty as a picture with the promise to grow into a woman stunning enough to hold a man's interest for maybe even a twelve-month. "

"If I was interested in bedding her. "

"And what are you interested in, my son? " Abraxus asked with only the faintest hint of curiosity.

The youth put down his book and rested the tired arm over his head onto the cushion, staring upwards at the moulded ceiling as though he could see a face there.

"In coaxing her into my arms and then crushing every little drop of life and laughter out of her body and her soul until she is just a shadow bound to serve my will and my desires. "

It was said as softly and as coolly as one might state the whether. But the cruelty of the words that would have shocked any normal auditor merely brought the widest smile yet to the older man's face.

"She has fire in her blood. You may be right; she will be fun to destroy. "

The boy finally turned his head against the velvet, so that identical steel eyes met and mocked in silent understanding. Then his lips lifted, pale, pink and disarmingly perfect, they curled into a smile so angelic it would make a mother weep. And seeing it, Abraxus Malfoy threw back his silver head in a low, musical laugh that seemed to tingle on the air in the quiet green room.

"You are so much my son. " he paused, allowing himself a moment to remember that smile and another who had worn it with such different, innocent purpose. The Malfoy smirk stretched wide and vicious.

" Almost I pity you, Miss Narcissa _Evangeline_ Black. "

* * *

**Et Voila! I have no energy left for long comments, as it is now 6h 30 in the morning lol so please don't sue because of the mistakes and I'll just repeat my earlier, rather pathetic plea. Read and REVIEW! =)**

**Luv ya!**

**Lili**

**X x x x x x x **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey there! Wow, it seems ages since I actually updated this story, which probably explains the length of the chapter. I love writing about Narcissa and Lucius, I must admit, but one does need to be in certain frame of mind to do it lol. Either stressed or irritated or a little bit resentful. Because it's not really a NICE story. It's a love story don't get me wrong but not your usual slushy, sweet romantic love. It's cruel and gritty and will be, I suspect a very high M rating in some places, for lots of nastiness, language and both mental and physical pain. It's my bad story, and I admit to sometimes wondering how twisted an author really has to be to imagine such a thing but… it does have a happy ending. **

**In this chapter we've skipped forward to September the first, the first day of school, the day when the story really STARTS lol. We'll be meeting many of the important secondary characters for the first time and of course Narcissa will finally meet Lucius himself. Bu(t not the REAL Lucius…at least not exactly. ;) I'm being all mysterious again sigh.. Pfff anyway**

**I hope you enjoy, and please as always, R&R =)**

**Lili**

**X x x x x x x x x**

* * *

Tears of Gold: Chapter 5

_Lucius's fingers stop their caresses, pausing on the white of my arm in confusion as my thoughts are obviously elsewhere. My back is to him for once, the sheets thrown off after hours of love-making and the moon illuminates the curve of my shoulder, my waist and hip with a silver glow. But it is his beautiful body that shines fully in her light, just as his shadow covers most of my slim frame. Even lost as I am in our past, the present still makes me smiles in it's irony. _

_His voice is deep, sensual but the curiosity is there beneath the seeming unconcern. _

_Where are you Narcissa… He whispers it softly, not to me but to the moonlight. Then he pauses. _When _are you…? He _

_already knows, already hates, and the tell-tale shiver runs through my entire body. It is answer enough. _

_His hand falls away and our bed creeks as he puts as much distance between us as it will allow. But the gap cannot cut our bond. The resentment, and the guilt that in reality it serves to hide, I feel it as strongly as he feels my pain._

_The thought of that sacrifice he never had to make, it reminds me why our loves endures and I turn and close the wide gulf between us. He does not react, not even when I rest my head on his broad shoulder and my hand against his heart. The past can never be forgotten nor forgiven, only put aside for another fiercer emotion, a need so powerful and binding that hate itself bowed before it. _

_I am yours. A whisper across his skin, one perhaps not loud enough to hear but of course he does. And the Dark Mark, the mark I detested so, twitches mockingly as his beautiful fingers clench. I tense, but although the naivety I possessed at the age of fifteen is long gone, the pride and stubbornness I was famous for will never fade. I do not let him go and three long moments later his hand relaxes, lifts and comes to tangles itself within the gold tresses of my hair._

_For a while all is still, and I wonder if he sleeps. Then his voice murmurs across the silence, soft, almost bitter, mostly musing._

_Mine, he lingers over the single syllable and pauses before continuing._

_Fool; you are my everything._

_My lips curl upwards. His eyes close and not too many minutes later the rise and fall of his muscled chest becomes both heavy and regular beneath my hand. Mine stay open, still lost in the memories we both hate and yet cannot escape._

_Naïve. Merlin, yes I was that. So much so I almost laugh. Innocent as a babe and foolish enough to dream that I could stay one a little longer. _

_Naïve enough to ignore the consequences of the vow I had unknowingly made. The first of three; Three vows that would determine my life like the rudder of a ship, dictating it as much as my accursed beauty. The beauty that I alone, the Vain One, could never bring myself to admire._

_Naïve enough to think that there was still hope, still a chance at the freedom I longed for so desperately. _

_That summer I was docile as a lamb, pleasing my father and even winning a reluctant approval from my Aunt. Only Bella knew me better, knew me well enough to mistrust this angelic front, and I think she worried for me even more. Worried at what foolishness my childish mind would concoct. In this she was not selfish; she knew the man I was to marry and feared, wisely as it turned out, for me. _

_But I was young and stubborn, and however many times she pressed me, I would not yield my plans to her. If I had… I sigh, and close my eyes with a rueful smile. With the word "if", we could move mountains. _

_Lucius shifts in his sleep, and without thinking my hand makes a soothing circle on his bare chest, lulling him to slumber once more. He will always have trouble sleeping; too many nightmares, too many of them true, but in my arms the worst are usually held at bay. And as his muscles relax once more, my mind wanders back to the day we truly met, face to face, name to name. A September the first much like this one. A beginning and an end._

_The beginning of a lifetime._

_The end of innocence._

* * *

At eight minutes to ten precisely, the party of the House of Black appeared in the very the frantic, screeching platform with a loud and certainly proud "CRACK".

The previous occupants of the space stumbled hurriedly backwards, skirting away uneasily from the straight-backed and upright forms. Wealth and distain practically oozed off the entire group, from the way they refrained from smoothing down their ruffled robes with immaculate fingers with identical expressions of boredom, to the haughty flick of the Matriarch's gold-etched wand that instantly set the disorder to rights.

More gold hung in chains and lumps around this imposing creature's neck and weighed down her noticeably large hands. Jewels were stuck like doorknobs on each knobbly finger, chosen obviously for their size and cost rather than any aesthetic value. It was surprising the old hag could even walk with so much dead weight dragging her down.

Their arrival caused a stir; the party were completely aware of it and ignored it if anything as their due. The gazes of three out of its five members swept the masses with a faces that varied from weary resignation to outright disgust. The two that refrained were too stunned to be mindful of their status. Instead they gazed about them with wide-eyed curiosity and just a hint of fear.

On the boy's pretty face this white anxiety did not seem much out of place. His small size and chubbiness of youth proclaimed to all of the many curious observers that he was evidently a first year. The matching expression on the girl's lovely features though, was rather odd. From the glances that slipped her way it did not seem that anyone was foolish enough to imagine this ripe young bud with her mouth-watering hourglass figure, a day younger than fifteen.

Narcissa stared and stared until she felt her eyes could take in no more. There were so many people, all bustling and pushing and laughing and even crying; it was bewildering all this show of emotions. In Paris one was more reticent. She supposed that this was partly due to one of the key differences between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons; whilst in France it was considered normal for students to portkey home at least one weekend of every month, Hogwarts students returned only during the holidays. Perhaps a year away from home merited these emotional demonstrations.

Narcissa shot a swift uncertain glance at her Aunt's imposing form. Then again perhaps not.

As she gazed openly curious around at the many tearful and embracing families however, a surge of longing took her by surprise. Inferior they all surely were, but Narcissa found she would have given much of her wealth and heritage to have a father who ruffled her hair with the same affection, as one man nearby was doing. The mother kissed the girl a moment later, and the pain in her heart increased. Mother, Madame,…Narcissa controlled herself with an effort, shaking her head and turning her attention once more to the other members of her family.

Aunt Walburga was still staring about her with an expression of deepest revulsion, thin lips curling, eyes flashing dangerously over her blade of a nose. Her bosom swelled indignantly and she swept away to a slightly less busy corner of the platform, her figure quite rigid in disgust as one person or another accidentally brushed her magnificent ensemble of velvet and black lace.

The younger Blacks followed, Bella impatient but carefully controlled, Sirius sullen and casting glares of hatred at his mother's back, Regulus keeping as close to his brother as possible without giving away his proximity. Narcissa winced as the group came to a halt and the eleven year stumbled into the elder boy, earning himself a scowl. Regulus' eyes widened in hurt, for a moment Sirius looked a little guilty but as he searched for the unwilling words of reassurance, Walburga spun on her heel and faced the group of children. The moment was lost; Sirius' mouth snapped shut, his brows descending once more into a glare.

Narcissa watched them sadly, until Sirius' eyes flashed to hers, the colour of forget-me-nots, but at this moment darkened with hatred. She flinched and looked away, knowing the reason for his anger, his hurt. Aunt and Father had not wasted the two months; the four years of discipline she'd apparently missed had been drilled and burnt into her in readiness for her meeting with her…fiancé.

The familiar chill ran down her spine as Sirius' form writhing on the floor filled her mind, his screams, his agony. Merlin his screams… But Father hadn't even had to ask; she'd offered to do it. Stepping in and practically begging to wield the wand herself. Sirius had stared up at her that first time in disbelief and growing horror. So small, so helpless as he twitched pathetically from the after-effects on the hard pitiless stones. So hurt, shocked, disbelieving and finally betrayed, as the cousin he had always secretly admired stepped forward to demand the entertainment of giving him pain.

It had torn her apart inside, brought her to breaking-point. Only the memories of Bella doing the same for her stiffened her spine and her resolve. Let him hate her. He would understand some day. As Bella had. As she had. One day he would realise the difference between a crucio meant and a crucio forced. For now, he would simply loathe her as she deserved.

That ferocious glare scorched her face; she met it, her own expression blank and unfeeling. She could not give in to emotions today, not even guilt. It would crush her. Today she had to be strong.

As Walburga began her slow lecture about the comportment expected from a member of the House of Black, their superiority, everyone else's unworthiness, Narcissa 's fingers crept up to clench around the necklace.

Aunt Walburga speech was almost pitiful; they all knew it. The Black's disgrace was written in the faces of every person watching them, as it had been for the last two months. Pity, disgust, contempt, even vicious mockery. Families that had once grovelled for their friendship now smirked and watched their downfall with spiteful delight.

Walburga had forced them to attend the season as always, swallowing her pride and her shame as they were at best ignored, at worst publicly ridiculed. Narcissa and Bella had born the slights and the laughter, Narcissa because all the people were unknown to her and therefore she could brush off their contempt with a shrug and a cool smile; Bella because she fiercely refused to back down, instead revenging herself on the snooty young ladies by stealing away their cicisbeos with a single sultry look from under her black lashes. Narcissa had watched her in amusement and admiration, and the sour look on their fellow debutantes with mischievous enjoyment.

Everything had been new to her, the people, the parties, and the politics. The language too was strange to her tongue at her first; after her presentation, her social debut had taken place in France. To flirt demurely, charm and mingle in English was a first and though she took to it like a duck to water, often a word reused to come and she was forced to resort to the language where she felt more at home. Happily the idiosyncrasy was seen as appealing rather than a fault, and those young men who valued beauty over reputation had listened fascinated as she tripped over the lilting syllables.

But these were few in number, and none of them would for a moment dream of anything more than the lightest of flirtations. The Blacks were, ironically enough, well and truly black-balled. The daughters, however lush, vivacious and witty, would never be married to anyone of rank or good breeding. Narcissa heard the words whispered behind their backs by the haughty dowagers and spiteful young ladies, and many times she had burned to let slip the name of her secret fiancé, however much she might hate him.

The thought of Master Malfoy brought the militant sparkle back to her eyes and, still not listening to her Aunt's lengthy discourse, she cast her gaze around the crowd speculatively.

She had half expected him to have the courtesy of coming to meet her on the platform. That he had not was a insult but his rudeness made her plan all the more easier to put into action, a thought she focused on with relish. Hah! Master Malfoy would find that far from not disappointing him, his bride-to-be was the exact opposite of anything he desired. She might not be able to escape this marriage; she was determined that he would wish to be rid of it just as much as her! Mould her indeed! Hah! The Miss Black he would soon be called upon to meet would be so undesirable that he would be demanding an new bride within the hour.

On this decidedly satisfying thought, Narcissa finally tuned her attention back to the hag that was by now finishing her speech on a command to remember always that no one was of higher status than a Black. She caught Sirius rolling his eyes in blatant insubbordinance, and it pulled a bubble of laughter to her lips. Finally the Black brood were ushered towards the train with their trolleys of baggage and Narcissa felt once more the thrill of fear and anticipation creep up her spine.

They mounted it in silence, closing the door behind them, none of them bothering to wave at the witch on the platform. Narcissa looked around curiously, taking in the warmth, the bustling teenagers, the giggling girls and the sounds of baggage being shoved up onto metal racks with loud thunks and clangs.

A muttered curse word made her turn. Bella was whispering furiously in Sirius' ear, their jet black locks mingling as she leaned in close. The thirteen-year-old snarled back under his breath and jerked out of reach, snatching up the handle of his trunk. One last look of loathing and Sirius turned to stalk away, but Bella's fierce tone's cut after him, making him turn resentfully

"You'd better not be off to that group of misfits!" she growled. Sirius' eyes flashed.

"Crawl back to your snakes, _Trixie! _Oh I'm sorry," his lip curled mockingly, "They won't have you any more will they? Now that we're outcasts and dirt beneath their feet."

His teeth gleamed white and vicious. The dark-haired girl's cheeks flushed, the spark of fury setting her black eyes aflame. Regulus glanced anxiously between his two idols, his teeth chewing nervously on his lower lip.

"Sirius isn't sitting with us?" he asked worriedly. Narcissa tensed, Bella's glare almost knocked the younger boy of his feet and his brother eyed him with a mixture of impatience and regret.

"No Reg. I've got my own friends to find and they don't include slimy, prejudiced gits." The eleven-year-old looked as though he might cry. Sirius exhaled, obviously torn but he only said,

"If you want to stick by Bella, fine. Or you could…come…»

Regulus stared at him as though stricken, but the elder boy didn't meet his eyes, instead staring somewhere to his right, jaw clenched, waiting silently for a denial. Narcissa stayed silent, feeling out of place in this unspoken battle for power. Regulus looked from one to the other, searching desperately for some way to please both, but Bella only folded her arms and tapped her foot, Sirius said nothing. The seconds crept by and finally, just as Regulus opened his mouth to speak, Sirius rapped out sharply,

"Don't bother, sit with _Trixie_, I'll see you at the sorting."

His spun gracefully on his heel and stalked away pulling his trunk behind him and didn't look back. Narcissa glanced back at the boy he'd left in his wake, mouth hanging open, eyes round and stricken with hurt. She couldn't help it, she dropped to her knees and put her arm around him.

"He was…punished this morning," she whispered, "He'll come round and check on you later, I'm sure."

He clutched at her robes, eyes still staring in the direction his brother had left. Narcissa bit her lip and suddenly inspiration came. She stood up with a mischievous grin and said cheekily,

"Well Bella, you now have two completely lost first years on your hands. We await your orders, commander."

This sally took all three of them back to the days when they'd played soldiers and pirates in the garden as children. Bella visibly relaxed, the black flames dying out and she grinned back, her face alight with laughter and a glowing intensity.

"Fall in behind me men, we shall seek out a worthy compartment!"

They were too old for the games, both sisters could hear the strain in their voices, the forcedness of the laughter, but Regulus was young enough to miss these and other signs. He grinned happily, picking up his baggage and dragging it gamely after his cousins, protesting when the elder shook her black curls despairingly and waved her wand, so that the expensive black trunk hovered in the air and followed them as they walked.

* * *

It was some half an hour later, when all three Blacks were lounging in an otherwise empty compartment near the back of the train, that a loud bang of the door being thrown open, announced the arrival of a newcomer. A rather vapish giggle heralded her entrance, then a scornful word and as Narcissa looked up in some surprise, a black stiletto shoe breached the doorway, followed by its owner.

The girl was taller than her by a good three inches and built on Junoesque lines. Slim legs seemed to go on and on, topped by a short gray pleated skirt and an impossibly tiny waist. She was older than Narcissa, in fact she looked to be more Bella's age; when she glanced between her sister and this stranger she was sure of it.

Bella's face was carved into an expression of deepest loathing, her black eyes flickering dangerously beneath her lashes. The girl returned the look with a cold, contemptuous smile and tucked one generously highlighted lock behind her ear, graceful, demure and positively bursting with self-satisfaction.

"So here you are. Bellatrix Black, Lady of Slytherin House… reduced to hiding in the last carriage. How far the mighty have fallen….»

Narcissa swallowed as the look in Bella's face turned from dangerous to pure murder. Her sister full scarlet lips curved upwards into a wild, winning smile and her fear grew. She knew that look, that deadly sparkle, and wondered at this intruder's foolishness. The girl waited, her eyes cool and composed, a gentle caress hovering on her mouth. Bella ran a honey brown hand through her riot of black curls, and answered sweetly,

"Would you call it hiding? I believe it to be more a case of avoiding those of lower intellect, class and breeding. Alas it would seem we have failed."

The girl's nostrils flared, but the sketch of a smile remained painted on her lips.

"Trying to brazen it out, Bella? Brave. But I came to tell that you are expected with us in the Prefect carriage."

Narcissa glanced at her sister, who was now narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Why on earth would I be called to the Prefect's carriage, Crouch."

This Crouch, Narcissa recognised the name vaguely, allowed her face to light up in an expression of cold triumph.

"Because I, as the year's Head Girl, said so." she announced with slow relish, openly enjoying the look of stunned shock on her nemesis' face. Bella's jaw clenched, her voice trembling with temper as she spoke.

"That's impossible, Dumbledore would never appoint TWO Slytherin Heads! What game are you playing Crouch! Answer me!"

She had jumped to her feet. Narcissa's eyes widened as the black twisted wand she knew so well was out and pointed at the other girl's face in a blink. The face partly obscured by those thick curls was white and tense, her square jaw clenched so tight her full red lips trembled. Obsidian eyes glowed with a furious rage but Crouch didn't flinch, she merely smiled and said softly.

"Do it Black. I dare you."

Bella's fingers were holding the wand so hard they were almost vibrating, she could see it from where she sat. Narcissa held her breath, watching as the pair stood still and rigid and facing each other. The tension in the air crackled like lightening, hummed like electricity. Narcissa glanced at Regulus' frightened face and finally could stand it no longer.

"Bella."

Just a whisper, but it was enough to bring her sister's head flashing round, eyes wide and wild as her hair. She held that smouldering gaze quietly, and finally, Bella gave a huge shudder, just the one and lowered her wand.

"We will have this out Crouch." she promised, staring into the girl's light blue eyes. Crouch delicately folded her hands together and raised her brows as though pained.

"I truly hope not; violence in the corridors is unacceptable from the newest Slytherin Prefect." she said reproachfully. Bella snarled.

"What load of crap is this now?" her face was turning red now, her breast swelling as her impatience grew. Crouch's pale brow creased a little as for the first time she looked irritated.

"Believe me, I'm as stumped as you are, Black. You to replace me as prefect? But that's what our memo from McGonagall said so…" she forced the calm smile back onto her face, "Move!"

For a moment it looked like Bella would bare her grinding teeth and tear out the other girl's throat. Then with supreme effort she controlled her anger and turned back to Regulus an Narcissa with an apologetic shrug.

"I'll come and find you as soon as this mess is sorted out." she tossed her curls and shot Crouch a poisonous glare.

"You're in my way…" the growl was menacing enough to send chills down the spine. Despite herself Crouch's smile flickered and she sniffed before turning smoothly on her heel and striding out of the carriage. Just before her sister did the same, Narcissa called after her, smiling slightly,

"Don't kill her, Bella."

Bellatrix Black stared at her sister for a long moment, and then suddenly, without warning, the murder died out of her face and she threw back her head and laughed somewhat manically. One dark eye closed in a wink, the other sparkled.

"Don't worry your pretty head Cissy; I won't." she paused, and her pointed tongue slipped out to wet that evil smile.

"Worry about it…"

Before Narcissa could even sigh, she was gone.

* * *

The train ride passed slowly and dully, with most of the long minutes spent re-reading through her school books and throwing out a funny comment as a distraction to Regulus every time his face turned a little too pale. Narcissa understood his fear. It had been made painfully clear to her during her two-month stay at Black Manor, that only one House was acceptable for a member of that most noble of families. Sirius' defection into Gryffindor had brought upon them the deepest of shames. Only one crime was more terrible and her sister had committed it barely a month before.

Regulus was now the son upon whom all hopes were placed and the expectations weighed him down like one of his mother's gold collars round his neck. The longing for his elder's approval and friendship could not overcome the terror of his disappointing his family and therefore he sat both miserable and scared. Depressed at the thought of being sorted into Slytherin and yet petrified of the opposite. Narcissa did her best to turn mind to happier thoughts, teasing him about his small, very fat owl, dubbed rather aptly Scoffer by Sirius. No one was surprised when Regulus kept the name.

It was about two hours after Bella had left that a knock on the door made both Blacks turn curiously. The brand-spanking new example of "Hogwarts; A History" they were both pouring over, slipped onto the cushions forgotten. After a slight pause, the compartment door opened to reveal a small, sandy-haired boy with very round blue eyes that stared at the other boy and girl with disconcerting focus.

Black progeny were taught from birth to regard themselves as higher beings, exempt from common rulings that they themselves naturally condemned in lesser mortals. They stared back unashamedly.

The new-comer's head suddenly twitched, darting back and forth with jerky movements but the object of his search obviously wasn't there. He made to leave as silently as he had entered but Narcissa, seeing the boy was too small to be anything but a first year, perceived the work of providence and sent him a warm, welcoming smile,

"Hello, are you looking for someone?"

The boy looked startled at being addressed in a friendly manner by this very pretty older girl but he managed to stammer out,

"M…my cousin." he squared his shoulders with a flash of defiance, " They said she was down her and she was supposed to look after me." he finished glumly. Narcissa glanced at Regulus and then waved her hand for the boy to come in which he did with the wary look of one walking into a trap.

"Well this is MY cousin Regulus. Maybe if you told me your cousin's name, I could have a look for her? You're a first year right?"

The boy nodded dumbly and Regulus suddenly piped up,

"Me too. Do YOU know anybody starting?

Narcissa smiled knowingly and looked at the other boy who shook his head.

"I know my cousin," he offered, rather unnecessarily, " She's Eris Crouch. She's Head girl this year." It was said with a hopeful smile and a certain amount of family pride. Regulus returned the smile and leaned forward eagerly.

"I'm Regulus Black! That's means you're a Crouch too right? My mother says Mr Crouch is going to be the next Minister for Magic."

"He's my Dad," the boy nodded, " And my uncle's the Head of the Auror department, but I don't see them much." he added a little dully.

Regulus indicated the seat opposite him and the boy sat down without hesitation.

"I don't see my Father much either and when I do…" he trailed off, his face suddenly tense, but rallied with enthusiasm

a moment later, "What's YOUR name?"

"Bartemius Basilius Crouch, son of Bartemius, but my mother calls me Barty."

He said it with a challenging look as though expecting his new acquaintance to ridicule his obvious attachment to his mother but Regulus grinned happily.

"I'll call you Barty then! I hope you'll end up in Slytherin too"

Barty nodded eagerly.

"My Dad says Slytherins the best House!"

"Mine too! ALL my family have been in Slytherin! Well, except my brother…"

Regulus was silent and Barty looked at him sympathetically.

" I don't HAVE a brother," he confided, "I wish I did though. Eris is ok, I suppose but she doesn't like NORMAL things. She goes on about her hair and her studies and GIRLY stuff…" he broke off suddenly staring at Narcissa in horror.

"I…I'm sorry! I didn't mean..!"

But Narcissa was laughing, her golden waves of hair falling into her eyes so that she had to push them back and tuck them into submission behind her ear. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. She stood up, flicked her wand so that her trunk trembled and rose into the air and stepped towards the compartment door.

"_Bien_, I can tell when I'm not wanted! I shall leave you to your criticism of girls in general."

Both boys launched into protests and apologies. Narcissa shook her head at the onslaught, and held out her hands playfully for them to stop.

"I'm joking!" she laughed, rolling her eyes affectionately, "We have to change into our robes remember and family or not, you're a little too young for such a spectacle. I'll find another compartment to change and leave you guys to it."

Regulus pouted and Barty looked nothing less than devastated at the departure of his new goddess but another pretty smile shot over her shoulder from the door made them sigh and nod obediently. The two boys turned away and a moment later had launched into a vigorous debate over the opposing merits of the Wimborne Wasps and the Falmouth Falcons.

Narcissa sighed over the predictability of men of whatever age and quietly drew the door behind her.

* * *

The compartment they had occupied was the very last of the last carriage. Narcissa decided that the logical course of action was to simply retrace their steps checking each compartment she passed. The first two were occupied by boys, one group who looked to be her own age and the other maybe a year or two younger. She hurried by both, spurred on by the easily recognisable looks of interest she picked out on each of their faces.

Admiration was something she was used to of course; Narcissa was no fool and only a fool could be unaware of her attractions and the effect they had on the opposite sex, but if anything such slavishly worshipping looks always made her feel irritated and slightly disappointed. Bella revelled in them, but then Bella was a glorious brunette, free of the stigma of being blond and therefore stupid. Plus her hexes were as well-known as her famous curves. The fact that Narcissa's were almost as good invariably went unnoticed; the curse of golden curls and big, innocent looking blue eyes.

The third compartment looked to be empty. Narcissa pressed her nose to the glass and peered through but the other side of the window was obviously filthy, so that even wiping her hand over the surface did little to improve her limited vision. She hesitated, unwilling to barged into an occupied compartment but on the other hand remembering the difficulty they had had finding an empty one in the first place. So with one last doubtful look up and down the carriage, she tentatively knocked on the grubby glass.

There was no answer. Narcissa shrugged and pulled the door open.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"

Narcissa stumbled backwards with a gasp, her hand instinctively coming up to cover her eyes. The girl who had let out the deafening screech shot daggers at her whilst her folded arms did little to obscure her bare chest from view.

Between her widely spread legs two obviously male knees could be seen and the position of the thin elegant hands that had just slid out from under her school skirt did not leave much to the imagination. The boy on whose lap she was still precariously perched had hissed in protest at the not-so-dulcet tones of his companion and was now sighing as she burbled out some rant about remembering to lock the compartment door.

"And YOU!" pretty brown eyes shot Narcissa a look of deepest outrage. "How DARE you come barging in like that you little bitch! Probably peeping in at the window too! Eying up my Evan! I'll tear out your hair you…you…MUGGLE!"

"Violet," a light, musical voice escaped from behind the girl's voluptuous form and Narcissa blinked in disbelief. "Much as I usually enjoy hearing my lovers scream, you are offending my eardrums with your caterwauling."

The words positively dripped with honey and rosewater and left their auditors in little doubt of the speaker's amusement. A smile crept to Narcissa's lips, earning her another glare from "Violet" who jumped off her male-friend's lap with another over-played gasp of outrage.

"EVAN ROSIER you are the most horrible, meanest, STUPIDEST…!"

"And you Violet are utterly delicious and even your presence tempts me unbearably, but you would not have me backward in any respect due to my relative would you not?" the target of her rant replied in tones of deepest reproach.

Violet's mouth opened and shut in comical shock. The youth smiled a smile of great sweetness. He rose to his feet and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them lingeringly one by one, wholly unperturbed by Narcissa's presence. Violet flushed rosily and visibly clutched at the wall for support. The smile gleamed wider and more dashing still, each white tooth as bright as a star.

The Casanova turned towards the doorway and bowed with wonderful grace.

"Well-met _ma chérie_. _Vous êtes encore plus ravissante; je ne l'aurais pas cru possible_."

The French flowed fluently, and Narcissa swept her skirts aside and curtsied with theatrical reverence and a feigned blush. She lifted her head and threw her most mischievous grin up into that familiar face, a face that bore a marked similarity to her own.

"And you Evan, are still nothing if not shameless!"

The brunette, Violet, looked suspiciously from one to the other before demanding shrilly,

"Who IS she Evan? Tell her to go away!"

"I am devastated to have to disoblige you my lovely, but I cannot dismiss this particular young lady so," Violet's face was turning quite coincidently purple but he continued with an apologetic shrug and a lurking, provocative twinkle.

"She is after all, my cousin."

Violet Parkinson attained precisely the colour her name suggested.

* * *

A few minutes and a lot of screaming later, the girl named Violet had stormed out of the compartment, fully dressed and in high dudgeon. Her stomps could be heard echoing own the carriage long after the door had closed behind her but finally the two cousins were alone. Evan, with his infallible courtesy took Narcissa's hand and led her to a seat. He himself remained standing and two pairs of deep blue eyes stared at each other for a long moment.

"So," he murmured, head tilting to the side, "I suppose the first question is, how are you coping cousin?"

Narcissa sat with her back very straight and upright, looking up at him thoughtfully, taking in how much he had changed in the twelve months since she'd last seen him

Evan Rosier was less than two years her senior and they were not quite as closely related as the familiar terms on which they stood would seem to indicate. He was in fact her second cousin once removed; her mother being before marriage the only daughter of the late Adam Serenius Rosier, who had been also Evan's paternal Great-Uncle. Now Evan was the heir to the Rosier line and to the very respectable fortune his father and grandfather had assembled during the years.

His other inheritance was more visual but no less valuable and Narcissa noted the effects as appreciatively as always. Evan had received the Rosier good-looks in full measure with clear almost translucent skin that never seemed to blemish, a patrician nose and clean lines. Golden locks caressed a wide brow and if his features were thought to be little delicate, almost feminine, no one could deny his enviable charm. He was of no more than medium height but his frame, though slim had the supple elegance of a rapier.

Eyes of the famous Rosier blue sparkled with fun and mischief, his smile came so easily it seemed welded to his lips, but anyone thinking that his pretty blond head held a foolish mind would be much mistaken. He used his charm to its highest effect and could smile affectionately at his worst enemy.

His moods ebbed and flowed as easily as the tides and if in general he seemed to bathe in the glow that emanated from his sunny disposition, there was a shadow behind the gaiety that hinted at unpalatable secrets. But he minced through life in clothes of the most exquisite taste, flirted with a skill and joy only rivalled by his real indifference and was famous for always carrying a single pink rose in his hand.

As if he had read her mind, those long pianist's fingers shimmied in the air and drew out of nothing a perfect bloom. It was a famous gesture; a piece of wandless magic that had been passed on through generations after generation of Rosiers. Narcissa regretted never having asked her mother for it.

Evan carried the flower to his nose and sniffed delicately, so that his long lashes caressed his cheeks.

"Ahhhh…would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? I do believe not." Narcissa coughed to hide her amusement, unimpressed by the famous quote. Evan's lids shot open and his eyes surveyed her with the keenness of a sword over the perfect, pink petals

"But first I suppose I must offer my felicitations." he said softly.

Narcissa stiffened immediately and eyed the older boy warily,

"How do you know about that?"

His laughter was frank and disarming; despite herself, despite knowing full well that it was perfectly designed, Narcissa felt her lips tugging into an answering smile.

"But my dear cousin, your prospective bridegroom can talk of nothing else." the amusement was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving his face oddly grave. " He is…enthusiastic. »

"You know him? My…" she blushed slightly, "My fiancé."

She lifted her chin as she said the words, a militant sparkle in her eye. Narcissa Evangeline Black did not flush like a silly miss, nor would she quail in face of her fate. She held his gaze, challenging him to mock her obvious curiosity but he did not. Instead Evan simply stared down at her, that strange expression still on his face. Finally he seemed to make up his mind and replied with careful restraint,

"I do. Unfortunately. Which puts me in a…difficult position."

"How so?"

Rosier hesitated, twirling the rose stem between his fingers, his blue eyes fixed on the pink beauty.

"Are you aware that my Father has cut off all ties to your family?" he asked finally, instead of answering her question. Narcissa flushed again, her fists clenching in the folds of her dress.

"I am." she said stiffly. No point in denying the inevitable.

Evan did not answer immediately, but continued to stare pensively into the heart of the flower. Eventually he said with that same abstract train of thought,

"By rights, you are no longer in a position to call me cousin.", he mused.

Narcissa's face was tense and oddly pale.

"If you remember Evan, it was you who hailed me so. And I have not returned the favour. Do you mean to "cut" me?»

She spoke pleasantly as though only politely interested. Rosier lifted his gaze finally and surveyed her with something akin to approval. His ready smile skated across his lips, as she waited with great calm and dignity. Then, suddenly, his seriousness vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Never! My dear Cousin! How many times have I professed my adoration, placed my heart at your feet? You wound me with these accusations, I protest!"

Shocked reproach slipped seamlessly into an beauteous smile. He beamed with the unrestrained excitement of a child at Christmas, and Narcissa blinked at the lightening change. He skipped towards her, pulled her from her seat and twirled her around the room before coming to a halt and bringing both her hands to his lips.

"You are a flower, _ma cherie, _and more than that, you are a Rosier. If at any time it may somehow aide you to remind the world of that fact, by all means do so. I will continue to call you my blood, both you and your sister. However…"

His head was still bowed over her fingers, but he sent another serious look from under his lashes and Narcissa felt a chill trail down her spine.

"You will have no need of it, Narcissa. Against the world; your protection is in your betrothal; my name is nothing compared to it." he hesitated just a moment. "And against your betrothed… I can not…will not stand with you."

He said it simply, neither apologetic nor proud. It was true and that was it. Narcissa swallowed and nodded her understanding. Evan straightened up slowly and looked her deeply in the eye.

"Are you strong Narcissa?"

Blue burned into blue. Golden curls bounced light back and forth off two matching heads. Narcissa kept her chin raised as proud as a queen and nodded.

"I am."

Just like that, the boyish glow suddenly spread over his face once more. He lifted her hand once more and pressed the knuckles to his lips adoringly.

"Excellent! Do you know, I do not believe I have ever met another woman in which wisdom met beauty met in such perfect harmony. Alas Lucius got to you first. The Court will be whispering before nightfall."

A frown creased her brow. She looked up at him curiously, ignoring the urge to return his apparent goodwill with a smile as bright and whole-hearted as his own. His head cocked to the side, mischief teasing his lips as he said with laughing reproach.

"The Court, dear cousin! Surely Bella has explained it to you?"

Narcissa shook her head, a stubborn look coming into her face.

"I was not interested in my new life." she admitted defensively, "I was happy in my old one."

As though a bird passing overhead had cast a shadow, his glowing, delicate features darkened in an instant.

"Your innocence is your greatest charm Narcissa and it renders you delightful," said Evan, slowly, « Do not keep it long. It is a luxury you can ill afford."

The mood was all at once heavy, not quite threatening but far from peaceful. Evan's face was carefully neutral but there was a look in his eyes that warned, yet so faintly that it was almost against their own will. An odd expression for him; neither sparkling with joie-de-vivre nor pouting with disappointment. It could not last long. As it was, a mere moment later the seventeen year old threw up his hands self-mockingly, his blond curls shaking, his light laughter bouncing of the wall.

"Ah! What am I saying? Ignore my babbling Narcissa! You at least know me too well to take my nonsense seriously." his eyes sparkled and teased, chasing away the tension and coaxing her to answering laughter. No girl could resist.

The train jolted slightly at that moment, throwing the pair off balance and knocking both trunks to the floor. Evan made a grab for them, gallantly choosing to save Narcissa's rather than his own. He pulled it upright once more with a sly grin.

"I hadn't even noticed, but you have yet to change Narcissa!" he pointed out. Narcissa's eyes lit up.

"I do indeed!" it was said with a sudden burst of excitement that Evan was taken rather aback. He eyed the younger girl through narrowed lids but Narcissa had realised her mistake and immediately forced her features into an expression of innocence. All wide eyes and guileless smile. Evan wasn't fooled for a moment. His face split into a grin.

"Ah! The excitement of the unknown! My dear cousin, you are about to don the Hogwarts School Uniform for the very first time! I must stay and witness the event!"

"Somehow Evan, I am sure that you have seen PLENTY of girls DONNING the Hogwarts Uniform," Narcissa retorted, "And many MORE removing it!"

"Narcissa!"

"Evan!"

"I am appalled at such lack of maidenly delicacy!" he declared gravely.

"You must be!" she nodded sympathetically, "Compared to the modest, polite young ladies you keep company with! A shameless HUSSY in fact. My poor cousin, how I must offend your sensibilities.»

He let out a shout of real delighted laughter and swooped forward to kiss her cheek.

"And not only mine, I am sure! My dear cousin, where did you learn such language?" he shook his head teasingly. Narcissa twinkled back.

"But from Bella of course, but would you believe who she told me taught them to her…?"

Evan succeeded in looking completely innocent and his wide curious expression brought an unladylike giggle to her lips. She caught it just in time and was trying desperately to calm herself when the evil git suddenly slapped his palm to his forehead in blinding enlightenment.

"But of course! From…" then he paused, thought for a moment then shook his head hopelessly.

"Nope, no idea."

It was too much. Narcissa tried valiantly to hold back the mirth but it slipped out and around her fingers in a terrible gurgle. She bit her lip so hard it nearly tore in two and Evan, spawn of Satan that he was simply looked on looking extremely satisfied with himself at having sent her into near hysterics. He tutted down at her and said reprovingly

"Really Narcissa do control yourself! ANYone would think that some extremely dashing, sexy seventh year had been saying naughty things to you."

"If only! Alas there seems to be none around." she retorted swiftly,

He scowled playfully at her giggles and then suddenly shot her a sly grin.

"Famous last words. You shall meet my fellow seventh years soon enough, _ma cherie _and then perhaps sing a different tune."

At once the cheerful atmosphere dropped too below freezing. Narcissa rounded on her cousin, all flashing eyes, white face and bared little teeth.

"He might be a Veela for all I care!" her dark blue eyes flashed like stormy skies, "It does not change the fact that I have no desire whatsoever to marry a rude, selfish little prince who decides that he will "BUY" me despite my being, as he so kindly puts it, "spoiled goods!" I suppose I should be grateful for his condescension in even making the attempt to "mould" me, but I tell you now Evan, I have no wish to be MOULDED by anyone, not even his highness, Master Malfoy!"

It was an impassioned speech and the speaker finished with a heaving bosom and clenched fists.

Evan regarded her with comical astonishment, blinking theatrically and edging away from her. It was meant good-naturedly and Narcissa could never storm for very long. She was more of a brooder than a tantrum sort of girl, the exact opposite to Bella. It was Andy who had taught her that revenge was a dish best served cold, that screaming and shouting served no purpose and that a clever young lady might achieve her aims much more satisfactorily. Her temper was parried by Evan's grin, his teasing gleam slipping under her guard too easily really. It was dangerous to allow oneself to be charmed, but Evan was her cousin and so she stilled the silent warning and sighed ruefully.

"And already he puts me in a temper. Sorry Evan, I've been snapping everybody's nose off ever since…"

He was already smiling at her gently.

"And I thought it was a personnel honour." it dragged a faint chuckle from her but she was still staring bleakly at the floor. He bent his knees till their eyes were level, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You said you were strong Narcissa," he said quietly. It sparked some defiance in her. She lifted her chin stubbornly at him.

"I am!"

"Then prove it. And charm the Slytherin court as only you know how. No frowns…" he smoothed them away with one long finger, "…And no tears. I don't want that mischievous grin to leave your face until your safe behind the curtains of your four-poster bed. Be defiant and dazzling. Take the wind out of every girl's sails and make the boys' flush red with at the fantasies flitting through their minds. "

Her smile grew wider as he spoke, tugging her lips reluctantly upwards until his last order made her laugh out loud.

"And what of my fiancé? Do you have any advice on how to handle him?"

It was only meant to be playful banter, lightly spoken and with no real serious intent behind the words. But Evan Rosier was suddenly still. The pause was long and the silence heavy and Narcissa wondered what in her question could have brought that grave, almost detached look back into his face Finally he spoke, in a voice as empty as his glazed eyes.

"Only this cousin; In the grip of the storm, the wise willow bends.

Narcissa's brows lowered into a frown. Her lips parted to ask his meaning but Evan suddenly stood upright with a small shake of the head and marched towards the compartment door. With one elegant hand resting lightly on the frame, he paused half-turned, avoiding her puzzled gaze.

"And the proud oak doth break."

* * *

His exit left a silence, an emptiness in the stuffy compartment and Narcissa's face was troubled as she stared for some minutes at the door he'd closed softly behind him. Evan's figure still lingered in her minds eye, just like his words echoed in her mind. She mulled over the enigma that was her cousin like an intricate puzzle, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

Back and forth like a pendulum, Narcissa remembered he had always been so. Gaiety to utter seriousness in a single heartbeat. However fond of her cousin she sincerely was, some part of her was always wary of such a fickle, capricious nature. Evan Rosier would pick his course blindfolded and randomly with one finger, only to laugh with apparent astonishment when it lead him either to fortune or disaster. So it seemed at least. But Narcissa had long harboured suspicions that his light-hearted unconcern was in fact the very furthest from the truth.

She recalled the evening some three years ago now, when he had made his annual trip to France to win over and beguile their elderly and completely coincidently, extremely rich French relatives on the Rosier side, and she had had the pleasure of introducing him to her other family. Charis had, on meeting him, frowned thoughtfully and said

"That one is like the river : he flows and ambles and carves his own path as randomly as the stars, and yet when you look from above, each and every stream leads back to the sea."

Narcissa had wrinkled her nose questioningly, but Charis had said no more. It had been one of those strange still moments when she seemed to speak with a sudden wisdom, but which passed as quickly as it came. Not prophecy by any means; perhaps insight. But even then, when their friendship was still new and tentative, the stillness had trailed down her spine and into her memories.

So many months ago now. So many miles apart. Loneliness hit her like a slap; she resisted the urge to flinch and set her teeth fiercely. With a stubborn shake of her head that sent her curls flying, she turned on her heel and marched towards her trunk. There could only be at most an hour before the train came to a stop. She had no time to waste if her plan was to succeed.

Mischief crept back into that delicate little face, a ghost of an urchin grin teasing up her lips as she flicked her wand and the trunk sprang open.

"Let's see how blind love really is, Master Malfoy."

* * *

Evan Rosier stood outside the door, watching the pink rose twist back and forth between his deft fingertips. A flicker of relief just touched his expression before it was gone. Narcissa may or may not heed his warning. The warning that had slipped out undutifully before he could pull it back.

Perhaps she would remember it in the months to come. Perhaps she might think less badly off him.

Perhaps she would be crushed before then.

The expression on Evan's delicate features didn't change. She was a darling, but his loyalty belonged to someone nearer and far far dearer to him. If he regretted that Lucius' wrath had been turned upon her of all people, he would shed no tears.

Evan Rosier had never had much love to give. That which he possessed had been offered freely and forever to a young boy with silver hair and eyes that flashed with rage as he wielded spells no first year should know. His lids slipped closed but the image from all those years ago burned through them as did the acrid smell of blood, wet floor and human waste. Bile rose. His head swam but he regained control in an instant. The boy's pitiful, helpless screams echoed from far away. Evan Rosier was no longer that boy.

If Lucius wanted her, he, Evans, would hand her to him on a silver plate. And if he didn't…well then he would pray for her. No one but the gods could save her then.

* * *

The Great Hall bustled with life after two months of emptiness. The four House tables laughed and chatted and caught up on all the summer gossip while the ghosts soared back and forth, swooping down now and then to greet their favourites, enjoying the return of the castles soul.

Gryffindor could only be the loudest with boy's yelling across the table, girls tossing their heads with confident smiles, both sexes discussing Quidditch Trial's, pranks and parties. Four boy's in particular made more noise between them than any other table, well-known faces all of them though they couldn't be more than thirteen.

Ravenclaw sat to their right, poised and sedate, self-satisfied rather than confident, with books already littering the table and benches. Timetable's were compared left right and centre, essay's shown off with smug smiles and witty repartee flew back and forth from friends and enemies alike. Beside them Hufflepuffs enjoyed the simple pleasure of life, the return of old friends, the prospect of delicious food, new knowledge to acquire and to challenges to confront. Quieter and sweeter then the other tables, nevertheless it seemed to glow with a friendly warmth and happy laughter.

Each house possessed their own distinct personality but that of the last table differed from the other three far more. The members that graced the farthest side of the Great Hall were all remarkable for a certain elegance, a comparatively calm, almost sedate demeanour and a look in each and every eye that said this cool attitude was nothing but a façade to achieve their own ends.

However causally they seemed placed a long-time observer would notice eventually that every boy or girl was allotted a particular band of the table, inside of which they could move about freely from day to day, but never straying either higher up or further down. The further up one sat the higher one's rank, the most important of all occupying the seven seats at the end closest to the huge Entrance Hall doors, at the opposite end to the Teachers. And that the very head of the table was reserved solely for two student, one male, one female.

The emptiness of one of these prized seats, was a sign that waves were stirring beneath the Slytherins House's calm surface.

Younger students glanced up at the higher end of the table warily, trying to work out who was missing and why. It didn't take them very long, the absentee being on of the most conspicuous occupants of their House, however the knowledge of her identity only increased their fear. Most pureblood offspring could guess as to the reason of Bellatrix Black's absence from her usual place as Lady of the House. Still, social outcast or not, the raven-haired beauty was not one to bow down without a fight. This could only mean one thing, and no one looked forward to the prospect.

War.

The place of the Lady would not stay unoccupied for long. Already one of the six was eyeing the seat with a faint, satisfied smile, the only girl that sat there. Tall and slim, with long brown hair streaked with gold, and baby -blue eyes that missed nothing that went on around her.

The glint of gold on her ample chest was another weapon in her favour, declaring her albeit unexpectedly as Head Girl. This was another puzzle, especially in conjunction with conspicuous lack of an identical glint on the chest of the young man sitting almost opposite her. Everyone had sworn that the Head Boy would be… But Dumbledore would never appoint two Slytherin Heads, surely… So then who…? And more importantly…WHY?

As though in answer to that very thought spinning in every Slytherin's mind, the lips of the young man in question curled upwards into the faintest of smirks. Singularly appealing lips, as any female observer would have noticed, unusually full and palest pink. A thick mane of startlingly white blond hair cascaded over his shoulders and together, the overall first impression was almost feminine.

Only when the young man lifted his head, was this impression swiftly dispersed. Shot instantly to pieces by one look from a pair of eyes the colour of polished steel. Keen and piercing as a hawk only colder and the faint gleam of malice and mockery was enough to bring up lump of fear to the throat of any foolish enough to cross his gaze.

Such eyes, combined with a proud, straight nose, a strong chin and impossibly chiselled bone-structure, saved such a lovely face from delicacy. Instead the effect created was one of an archangel, pale and silver-clad, both merciless and dazzling. Even amidst the seven, all remarkable for the typical pureblood good-looks, he cast the others into the shade.

An outside observer would be unlikely to single this particular seventh year out for any other reason. He was beautiful to be sure, the most beautiful in fact of all the students wearing the traditional green and silver. But very little else could have hinted at just how very important this youth was. Only a certain tension in the air around him perhaps, a way that every student seemed at every moment aware of him. Watching him at all times for the slightest change in his demeanour as though that change could signal something disastrous for any one of them.

Otherwise, only his seat at the very head of the table named this tall, elegant young man as Lord and Master of the Noble House of Slytherin.

Thus was the Slytherin Court laid out, a hierarchy of students each acutely aware of his or her own place in their ranks. It was judge and jury to those of its own house, and very few incidents ever went further. The judgement of the court and her Lord was final. Once made, no one would dare contest his decision.

To have a voice in the court one had to be over fourteen for females and twelve for males, unless invited by a member of the seven highest ranked. These places went invariably to seventh years, though some particularly powerful pureblood progeny might force his way into their ranks by cunning and skill. The Current Lord and Master of Slytherin House had accomplished this feat at an astonishing twelve years old.

In just over two years later, at an unheard fourteen years of age, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy had claimed the supreme title

In the three years since he had ruled the Dungeons in general fairly and always mercilessly; they called him the iron fist in a silk glove. The metaphor was sufficiently apt to appeal to him and thus he had allowed it to remain in circulation. In the midst of the soft babble of the students, he caught the nickname on a few lips and each time in made him smirk slightly, raising his beautifully white hand in question as though to admire. It was not vanity, merely a subtle warning to those quick and cunning enough to notice it, that they were talking loud enough to be overheard, a dangerous thing in the Slytherin House.

Only one boy caught the gesture, and it was no surprise. However lacking the scrawny black-haired boy was physically, he made up for it with an intellect approaching the level of genius and a cunning almost equal to his own. Severus' cheeks had flushed slightly at the small reprimand and he sent a quick nod down the table. Only when the seventh year returned the faint movement after a pause, did the kid finally settle down once more.

Watching him, as he turned back to the newly-sorted first year who was avidly asking question after question, Lucius leant his head thoughtfully to the side. Yes, Severus was one to both foster and look out for. He would keep a closer eye on him this year. If memory served him correctly, the boy had an unhealthy infatuation with the Mudblood Gryffindor in his year. Now might perhaps be the time to wean him from that childish crush, harmless for the moment at least, but possibly distracting in the future. He had always made it clear that the boy was of interest to him and thus Severus had escaped the typical bullying that went on in the darkness of the Hogwarts Dungeons, a fact he was fully aware and grateful for. But it might a good time to take him a little more under his wing.

If he had the time amidst his…other… amusements.

Ahhhhh…. An evil light lit up the famous grey eyes that so often went with the Malfoy name. The anticipation was almost as delicious as the meal itself and Lucius felt the perverse desire to prolong the wait, the sweet throb of revenge pulsing the vein in his pale neck. Graceful as a cat he raked his keen gaze over the bunch of first years still waiting to be sorted, searching for one figure taller than the rest. Hips and bust too shapely to belong to an eleven year child, a head of guinea gold curls…

A faint curiosity as to how she would look in a Hogwarts uniform trailed disinterestedly across his mind but hatred was the principal emotion. He had not claimed her out of desire - his smirk turned contemptuous at the thought - the burning in his blood was a deep, all-consuming loathing that four years had failed to put to rest. No. Narcissa Black would learn what humiliating a Malfoy truly meant. Hopefully she would not crumble too easily, he mused, still scanning the huddling figures, wrapped in their cloaks and their hats drawn low against the cold drizzle outside. It would be a pity after having waited so long…Ahh!

Right at the back, one black figure had been bent forward, almost crouched down to merge into the mass of First years. When they stood up, it could be seen that his or her hat topped the rest by almost a full head.

Lucius' smirk was pure triumph.

The youth opposite him suddenly flashed him a shrewd glance before quickly following his gaze. Beneath a windswept fringe of glossy black bangs, the boy's intense blue eyes lit up.

"Ah HAH! I do believe our dear Lucius has spotted his fiancé."

The rest of the group paused in their conversations and turned in interest towards the tall figure now doing her best to blend in once more. Evan was now beaming cheerfully, leaning back on he bench, twirling the rose he held once more idly between his fingers. He wore his tie loose around his neck, and his seraphic smile and apollon curls made him look even more romantic than ever. Lucius nostrils pinched ever so slightly. If Rosier was not his cousin and his most loyal friend in the world…

But Rook was back to his typical mischief and Lucius rolled his eyes as his brother in all but blood continued wickedly,

"Finally, we'll get to see Luc's pretty little toy. He's been refusing to even rate her, selfish git." Augustus Rookwood flashed a grin showing very white even teeth,

"Maybe he's ashamed…", he wondered, eyes dancing with mischief.

Evan laughed, light and pure as a nightingale.

"Need I remind you that Narcissa is a Black," he paused to throw a devilish wink at a girl sitting a few rows down from them, and then continued, "And that her mother was Rosier?"

"And since when do you query my taste, Rook?" Lucius said with a smooth smile, his eyes never straying from the cloaked figure still waiting as the other first years, one by one, went up to be sorted.

Augustus threw up a hand immediately disclaiming,

"Not now, not ever, Luc." his mouth curved into a ridiculously licentious smile, and he waggled his dark brows, "I've never had any complaints. Which is why I'm curious to see the little virgin that's got you hot enough brave even the alter."

Lucius returned the smirk and rolled his eyes at his friend's shameless behaviour, inwardly wondering yet again whether he should let his truest friend know his real plans for the little virgin in question. But like all the times before he drew back, still selfish enough to wish to play with his toys alone. For the moment at least.

They shared a knowing look, recalling past conquests and comparisons of the female sex. The other boy ran his hand lazily through the dark mess of hair, tilting his head back just enough so that the light from the candles above them set of his handsome face to perfection. Students from all tables were stealing glances at the group's backs and when the two most handsome boys present grinned those identical grins, it wasn't hard to see why.

Suddenly a cool female voice, broke their masculine complacency by saying serenely,

"Men…are pigs."

Eris Crouch continued to inspect her perfectly polished nails with an expression of pained disgust. Augustus, sitting next to her, leaned back with his hands behind his head and sent her a sly grin.

"I prefer to call it a healthy appreciation for the female body." he ran his eyes down her slim frame for emphasis.

Crouch sent him a withering look and flipped her thick, shiny hair over her shoulder, allowing her cool gaze to rest on the group of first years still huddling in fear before McGonagall and the hat in her hands.

"I'm sure you do." she deadpanned, before dropping one hand to the table with a faint look of petulance. Four pastel pink nails began to tap impatiently on the oak surface.

"For that dull little blond?" she finally sniffed "I suppose having seduced most of the girls in the school you must be getting desperate."

Augustus suddenly perked up in interest.

"You've seen her then?"

Eris raised her shoulders and let them fall delicately.

"Briefly. She had her nose in a book and obviously dyed hair. I was rather more occupied with the Black Banshee."

There was an uncomfortable silence at her words. Moments later, a slow, deep voice rippled dangerously across the table.

"Do we now insult our former Lady…?"

Suddenly everyone's eyes seemed to avoid looking at the one who had spoke. Eris became quite still, her gaze boring a hold in the table and the knuckles of the hand that had been resting upon it were now white. Rookwood's long fingers were tangling in his hair uneasily. Evan's attention was once more fully concentrated on the beautiful rose in his hand; with a curious flick of his wrist, he made the bloom appear…and disappear…appear…and disappear. Over and over again.

The last member of the seven, the only one to have so far not spoken, was along with his Lord, the only one capable it seemed of meeting the speaker's gaze. The reason for this was not difficult to guess: the similarity of their striking looks proclaimed them brothers instantly.

Both had skin the gold of polished mahogany, smooth and supple as silk over hard muscle. The younger was a shadow of the first. Shorter, lighter and quieter than all the others, with longish ebony hair and a beauty that promised to one day be as hard and cruel as his elder's. For now, youth softened the harsh square of his jaw and the prominent beak of a nose. He was the only fifth year amongst the seven and not wholly due to his lineage. Or his brother.

The elder was the one who had spoken, and it was evident in the way a hush seemed to fall upon the group, that his position within it was second only to one.

Rodolphus Lestrange seemed to come slowly out of his abstraction, lifting the smooth dome of his buzz-cut head and taking in every face with eyes as dark as bloodstone.

Eris bit her lip in annoyance, but the respect in her voice was absolute as she murmured,

"Bellatrix Black is no longer Lady here."

The youth turned, in a slow, roving motion that made the huge muscles in his chest and arms, ripple through his shirt. They strained through the cotton, only hinting at a build in reality bigger and beefier than a muggle weightlifter. On his feet, it could be seen that he stood at an impressive six foot four yet somehow the sheer breadth of his shoulders made him appear almost square. He was also as powerful magically as he was physically and the stories of his…darkness, were told by mean students to give first years nightmares. Horrible stories… Eris couldn't quite disguise a shiver nor her evident fear of the man seated opposite her and who was now burning a hole in her head, with those eyes she didn't dare meet.

He opened his mouth to answer her in that same, slow bass, only this time, for the first time, a smile gradually curled his mouth. It was the smile of a pure predator with blindingly white teeth and abnormally long canines. A smile more dangerous than the shark it resembled. Crouch shot a glance into his face and fought back the urge to swallow.

" Bellatrix…the very name means war." Lucius inspected his perfectly manicured fingers, "I am curious, I confess as to who would triumph but in this case the disgrace is too great. The Black's are no longer welcome among us. Neither shall we speak of those not fit to spoken of."

And thus was the Lord's decision, subtly and skilfully pleasing both parties, so that neither thought himself the loser. His voice was like liquid silver, soft and deceptively gentle but even Rodolphus Lestrange made no sign of discontent at being interrupted or commanded. The black, black eyes smouldered with dark yearnings and flickers of twisted humour but no resentment.

Of the group, the relationship between the pair was the both the most complex and the most simple. Lucius cast a lazy look over each of the three males that made up his closest entourage. All four had grown up together, been tutored together, duelled together and fought together. The bonds between them were tighter than most in this most self-interested of houses.

Evan's was loyalty, in its purest and simplest form, stemming from two things; a blood-tie and a dept. Rosier would follow him to hell and back again without even a word of protest and to a lesser extent Lucius would return the favour.

Rook however was his true best friend, a perfect match of humour and personalities and his brother in all but blood. Merlin he could spend days recounting even half their exploits together, illicit or otherwise. They had been partners in crime since birth and were closer than most Slytherins ever allowed themselves to become, especially without family ties. As though he'd read his thoughts, Rook leaned back, hands behind his head and sent him a handsome smirk. The smile that Lucius sent back was real and therefore rarer than gold-dust.

With Lestrange however, the dynamics were different. They were tied together by a shared lust for power and deep respect and understanding that the other could aide them in that quest. It was a relationship based on mutual benefit. Opposed, they were close enough a match to tear each other to pieces and perhaps destroys themselves in the process. Together, they had went unquestioned and unchallenged since the alliance was formally sealed in their third year.

If the Lestrange Line was older, one of the Seven no less, the Malfoy's had a political power that made one no less worthy than the other. Therefore a single duel had determined who would take the supreme title, with the loser taking a blood-oath to follow the victor's lead in what ever he did. The battle had been both bloody and disturbing, both fourteen years showing a knowledge of the Dark Arts that outmatched even most of the Seventh Years.

Perhaps Lestrange was in reality the one most to be trusted, Lucius found himself briefly pondering. They had a working relationship that had never once been jeopardized or even shaken by personnel matters. If one had need the other they were there; such was their contract. Plus the terrible truth each knew of the other, it was an assurance worth ten times the fragile bonds of companionship. Together they walked the shadows, odd really for one named "the bringer of Light".

Lucius pushed the vague thoughts of his associates out of his mind and allowed it to sink back with relief onto the subject of the cloaked figure who now stood alone before the Hogwarts Student Body. All the other first years had been sorted. McGonagall had no need of her list to call out sharply,

"Narcissa Black."

Every head turned. The figure stepped up to the dais and the chair but when she made to walk past the Deputy Headmistress, the stern looking woman tutted and pointed out,

"Your cloak, Miss Black, really."

The figure seemed to still and then shiver ever so slightly. Was it nerves? Fear? Lucius' tongue slipped out unconsciously to wet his pale pink lips. He hoped not. There could be very little fun to be had from a wimp whose knees knock just from trying on a hat. Surely the girl he had danced with in Paris had had more spine, more stubbornness too for that matter. She had shrunk from a tall, dark stranger, she'd been aroused instead, flushed and…

Lucius laughed lightly at his own musings. Naïve! That was what the bitch had been. Falling into his trap like as foolishly and helplessly as a kitten. He'd had her melting in his arms with the merest whisper in her ear, pathetic little idiot that she was. As she would again…

Before he crushed her in his palm as slowly as a ripe fruit.

Rook sent him a sly wink, sensing his impatience. Lucius simply smirked. Let Rook think what he wanted; if their bonds were as tight as he believed they might be, his brother would guess the truth before the week was out.

Up before the murmuring crowd, his fiancé turned and lifted her hands to the ties of the hood of her cloak and Lucius' smile turned cold as steel. In one swift movement the cloak dropped to the floor and she bared her head, her face and her body. Hogwarts itself sat in silence, absolutely stunned.

Then Violet Parkinson's voice broke out, shrill and mocking.

"Merlin she's HIDEOUS!"

Pandemonium broke out, none more so that across the Slytherin Table. The Seven students at it's head simply stared as though transfixed by the girl who was now dumping a decidedly round frame onto the stool that suddenly looked three sizes too small for it. She was now beaming round the Great Hall, displaying rabbit-like teeth, a drunken nose and a splattering of acne that spread from brow to chin. Her eyes were almost completely obscured behind three-inch thick glasses, but what was clear was the emotion that shone from her unprepossessing features.

Triumph.

As the thought registered, Lucius suddenly smiled his most angelic, lilting smile.

Around him, Rook, Rabastian and Eris were still goggling, their mouths hanging unattractively open as Professor McGonagall recovered from her slight shock and dropped the sorting Head onto the girl's mousy birds-nest of hair. Their gazes flicked back and forth from what could only be the ugliest daughter ever born to the House of Black, and her fiancé now sitting back in his chair with such a look of satisfaction gleaming in his hard eyes that they didn't know what to make of it.

After a few moments, the hat's snide voice rang out, for some reason brimming with repressed laughter.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Narcissa Black jumped up from the stool and in doing so the thing fell over with a ringing clatter. The culprit gave an apologetic grin, scooped up her cloak and made her way towards the Slytherin Table so clumsily that half the students actually winced. Still beaming toothily she walked up to the very head as oblivious of every against eye upon her.

Down at the other end, Bellatrix Black clenched her fists so tight that her nails drew blood and fixed her blank gaze on the plate in front of her. The lovely face was quite pale, almost white, even her usually scarlet lips, as though every ounce of colour had been drained from it. She didn't watch her sister go, not even when the flutter of air as she passed caressed the back of her neck mockingly.

Fool.

Stupid, proud little fool.

Silently Bellatrix screamed, unable to watch Cissy poke the sleeping dragon in the eye as cheerfully as she did everything else in life. Fool. Merlin help you…

Fifty feet away, Narcissa approached the end of the table where Evan sat, his mobile face completely blank, surrounded by five other student who surely had be the other Seventh Years. A lump of nervousness stuck briefly in her throat, so that the deliberately gormless grin faltered ever so slightly. How would she recognise him, the thought suddenly struck her, and panic threatened to rise up and overpower her charade. Quickly she ran her eyes other each one; Evan, the pretty girl from the train, a black-haired youth with almost indigo eyes, a huge, intimidating young man who had to be related to the boy who looked far too young to be sitting there in the first place and then…

Her huge blue eyes came to a halt on the last boy sitting there, and unconsciously her lips parted in a fierce, inexplicable longing.

He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Abruptly her cheeks flushed pink, she fought down a swallow and suddenly she felt ridiculously shy. Only her deep-rooted pride kept her gaze locked with his steel grey one. Then before she could make the conscious conclusion, he glided smoothly to his feet and held out a graceful hand.

"Miss Narcissa Evangeline Black…."

Dear Merlin no, surely…. he couldn't…

"Lucius Abraxus Malfoy…"

Dazedly she realised her fingers had slipped to his and that he was raising them to his lips with an impossible grace that seemed to set alarm bells ringing in her head. She made them no heed, lost in a pair of eyes the colour of purest silver. They never left hers as he pressed his mouth…Merlin, his mouth…to her hand and the moment his skin touched hers a rush of heat flooded up her arm and into her face. Maybe he felt it. Surely he couldn't have not.

Vaguely Narcissa wondered at the colour of his hair, white blond and gleaming as it fell over his face in the floating candle-light. It seemed strangely familiar too…where…?

Then he smiled, slow and seductive and yet pure innocence. The smile of an angel…

"Now…and forever…at your service."

The words lingered on the air, caressed her senses and her soul. Something in his face was calling out to her and in a moment of madness, almost she answered his siren song.

Then a sharp jab of pain, assaulted her mind, clearing it of the strange feelings. In a rush of something between exhilaration and fear, Narcissa shook herself fiercely, sending a mental thanks towards her sisters strangely silent mind. She pushed the puzzle away, Merlin knew she had to keep her wits about her…already she had almost… NO, she Narcissa Black would Not give him that satisfaction,…no matter how unfairly beautiful he might be..

Fixing the crass grin back onto her face, she replied in a voice that was deliberately too loud, too gushing and definitely too shrill

"OOOOOOHHHH I can't believe it! We're actually getting MARRIED!"

The girl from the train, Crouch Narcissa thought, wrinkled her nose in deep distaste. The male Seventh years simply looked too stunned to speak, expect maybe the dark, dangerous looking one. Bloodstone eyes locked with hers only for an instant, but the shiver of fear instantly made her glance away. But almost every other student looked downright appalled, just as she had been hoping for!

"Tee heee heeeeee!" she added an airhead giggle for effect. It worked beautifully.

Inwardly Narcissa whooped and cackled evilly, throwing an eager glance at her fiancé in hope for a similar look of horror. With luck he would be writing to his father tonight, she crowed, and this time it would be now fault of the Blacks that the wedding would be called off. The Malfoy's would have nothing! Certainly not a pretty little bride all ready and waiting to be MOULDED.

With a silent giggle, Narcissa plonked herself down into the empty seat, in a gesture that would have had her mother scolding her for a week. But to her surprise, Mister Malfoy was still smiling. Not quite the same smile, she thought consideringly, but a smile of complete and utter…it didn't seem possible, she frowned in sheer perplexion…satisfaction.

The look that she cast him was all at once suspicious but he simply stared at her as though she was everything he'd dreamed she would be and more. Was he quite sane, she found herself wondering impatiently, Had her glamour charms worn off without her noticing? She didn't think so, the girl opposite her was glaring to disgustedly for them not to be working.

With another brusque little shake of her head Narcissa made a mental resolution that by the end of tonight, she would have at least brought one look of annoyance to that stupidly perfect face. Said decision made, she turned to the rigid Head Girl and set about her task with relish.

* * *

Lucius said nothing, not one word the entire meal. Instead he watched the little bitch work, his lips curled into a smirk of appreciation. Only the gleam in his eye was not so kind. She would pay for this humiliation, of course. But it was a daring move and reassured him of what had been his chief concern.

She was not lying down and surrendering. And watching his prey struggle had always been his favourite part of the hunt. She did not know it yet, she thought there was still hope. White teeth flashed cruelly for a moment. He would allow her that illusion a little while longer. Just enough to let her taste the sweetness of battle, for the kitten to almost believe herself a tiger.

Then he would tear her down and into the gutter like the whore she was. After four years, he could wait a few days more. Revenge like the richest of wines, was best left to mature in the darkness.

Lucius sipped his pumpkin juice and reflected on the benefits of patience

* * *

**Oooooff Finally done. This was a toughie mainly because, rather like Chapter 4 of AOA, this Chapter sets up almost all the other main characters and their roles in the story. Trying to walk that fine line between Too Much Information and not enough to have a clear idea of them. Anyway, I hope you like, and as always please Read&Review. It really does make my day.**

**First steps as I said is my next Chapter to be updated and I'll try to get that done as soon as possible ^^**

**Luv y'all lots!**

**Lili**

**X x x x x x x x **


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